Wake for the sun, that scatters into flight,
The poker players who have stayed all night;
Drives husbands home with reeling steps, and then--
Gives to the sleepy "cops" an awful fright.
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The nose, as when the spirits strike the head;
That every step one takes upon the way
Makes him wish strongly he were home in bed.
The moving finger writes, but having "pull",
You think that you can settle things in full,
But when you interview the Police Judge,
You find that you have made an awful bull.
Some nonsense verses underneath the bough,
A little "booze", a time to loaf, and thou--
Beside me howling in the wilderness,
Would be enough for one day anyhow.