Four months alone I walked the chalk,
I thought my heart would break;
And all them boys a-slappin my back
And axin', "What'll you take?"
I never slep' without dreamin' dreams
Of Burbin, Peach, or Rye,
But I chawed at my niggerhead and swore
I'd rake that pool or die.
At last--the Fo'th--I humped myself
Through chores and breakfast soon,
Then scooted down to Taggart's store -
For the pledge was off at noon;
And all the boys was gethered thar,
And each man hilt his glass -
Watchin' me and the clock quite solemn-like
Fur to see the last minute pass.
The clock struck twelve! I raised the jug
And took one lovin' pull -
I was holler clar from skull to boots.
It seemed I couldn't git full.
But I was roused by a fiendish laugh
That might have raised the dead -
Them ornary sneaks had sot the clock
A half an hour ahead!
"All right!" I squawked. "You've got me,
Jest order your drinks agin,
And we'll paddle up to the Deacon's
And scoop the ante in."
But when we got to Kedge's,
What a sight was that we saw!
The Deacon and Parson Skeeters
In the tail of a game of Draw.
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