« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
But his whiskey hollow beats his wine,
Within the servants' hall.
There the punch, in little space,
Gets punching every head!
Is put the first to bed.
His bedfellow must be,
Till who so drunk as he !
He has fairly drunk one bottle out;
He surely cannot walk :
Companions burn the cork,
And Othello did not look more black
When he made love in Venice, Than did somebody I know when that cork
Had blacked the face of Dennis. They blacked his
his chin, His hair without, his ears within,
Until he cut a figure
Beside a brother nigger!
Dennis was drunk when he went to bed, And no doubt he had a pain in his head
When he got up the next morning : Still he did n't fail to rise at four, For he had miles to go galore,
All by his master's warning:
Eight long miles to go, at the least,
Dennis stopped not to wake the black,
Cross country, fleet and frisky.
very first shop “he seen,” In place of a noggin of whiskey.
He cast a sharp eye over all,
A-sticking just behind it:
But Dennis did n't mind it. And, may be, he would n't have cared to look ; But this 'cute thought in his head he took :
Poor Dennis ! he approached the glass :
But soon he saw his error.
His face was black
As chummy's sack,
And he drew back
“ Whisht! botheration !-So, I'm in bed,