Quickly we wound. Joe Wilson lit
His cutty pipe, and suck'd at it
In silence grim; and when it drew,
Puff after puff of smoke he blew,
With blank eye fixed on vacancy.
At last he turned again to me,
And spoke with bitter indignation
The epilogue of his narration.
"Waal, stranger, guess my story's told,
The Apostle beat and I was bowl'd.