Got the straight tip for the Siezerwitch,
If I honly land it, I'll be rich.
Guess next mornin' wouldn't find me sober—
Allays get the blues about October.
November.
Dull November! Didn't land that lot.
Fear my father's son is going to pot.
Fan jest passed me, turned away 'er eyes,
Guess she ranked me with the other guys,
Nobby larks upon the ninth, my joker;