But he wore two inches off the tip
With carvin’ the men he’d fought.)
A plumb-centre shot was his Derringer,
He didn’t let that iron rust,
He’d spot a couple a day with her,
Would Joseph—when on the bust.
We reckon’d his “down-pins” about fourscore,
But we hadn’t the c’rect amount;
’Cos arter he’d notch’d up to seventy-four,
He lost the run of his count.