A kind o’ warning to me.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying him and me—
Yes! that was the reason, whatever was given
In that city by the sea,
Why the fusilier spirit came out a-killing
My still-swilling Hannibal Leigh.
But I drink all the longer and drink it more strong,
For the two, for I drink like three,—
For myself once and twice for Leigh;