Beer! yes, my pewter full, farewell, to me thou art not sold.
The morning sun shall dawn again, but never more for thee
Shall I leave my “hansom” in the “stand” to get some stout and B;
Evening shall darken o’er the “pub” and o’er it’s sandy floor;
Some other “cove” may take my seat behind the taproom door,
When a short distance cheats my “fare,” then through the gathering crowd
I see the flash of pewter pots, and hear men singing loud;
And sitting on my cab again, I pause and sadly think,
“It was here I nearly broke my neck when last I had a drink.”
When last I had a drink! Away! the temp’rance dream is o’er;