Aw remember beein chuckt into th' street
At cloisin time, nothin noa mooar,—
An mi mates set mi up o' mi feet,
An propt me agean a hasse door.
All th' rest o' last neet is a blank,
Aw wonder who put mi to bed?
Awm sewer aw dooant knaw who to thank,
An aw connot reet think, for mi head—
Besides aw feel terrible sick,—
This drinkin, it isn't all bliss;