He kep' it dark, so there was none to budge, or tell the tale,
He wint to Father Mooney, an' he took the pledge agin' the drink,
An' in the sheds of his back yard, he built a fleet of sail,
He whistled as he worked, an' took a soothin' whiff of honest weed,—
That wasn't 'dultherated wid cabbage laves, or such,—
"I'll prove that Noah's out of it,"
He sung, an' took an airy fit
Of step dancin', "I'll make a hit, an' lave him on a crutch!"
He saw that Noah advertised, in notices around about,
He'd have to charge the passengers, to save them from the flood,