Says he, “Young man, the tribe of Phinns
Knows their own whisky-skins!”
He went for his ’leven-inch bowie knife:—
“I tries to foller a Christian life;
But I’ll drap a slice of liver or two
My bloomin’ shrub with you.”
They carved in a way that all admired,—
Tell Blood drawed iron at last, and fired.
It took Seth Bludso ’twixt the eyes,
Which caused him great surprise.