The moment was so contraband, it gave unto that liquor bar,
A zest, he asked the constable to take another neat,
But lifting out his ticker, says the bobbie, "Well be quick or 'gar!
The sergeant might come whop on me! he's out upon his beat."
The constable decanted it, said he, "Howld on until I look,
Now fly!" said he, and while they dived again into the night,
He fished from out his overcoat, and deftly in his mouth he stuck,
A friendly lump of orris root, to make his breath all right.
That bobbie was a wily one, the act was rather opportune,
For they had scarcely managed to get half-way up the gut