Reeling along the path he held his way.
“Ho! ho!” quoth I, “he’s d-r-u-n-k.”
Then thus to him—“Were it not better, far,
You were a little s-o-b-e-r?
’Twere happier for your family, I guess,
Than playing off such rum r-i-g-s.
Besides, all drunkards, when policemen see ’em,
Are taken up at once by t-h-e-m.”
“Me drunk!” the cobbler cried, “the devil trouble you!
You want to kick up a blest r-o-w.