I don't claim to be a church man, but I never was a free thinker before, neither. But all the sorrow that is going on in the world on account of them barrooms being closed is making a free thinker of me. HAIL AND FAREWELL I--A LAST DRINK To George McDaniel [Ill 0103] Hail! Barleycorn... they said you weren't Nice! Salve! You bum, and Vale! Hail! Farewell! Your feet, the Prohis say, go down to Hell; You led men into Poker, Fights and Dice, You filled the world with Murder, Lust and Lice, You made a Bar Fly of the Howling Swell, You bought the blood that deep-dyed bandits sell-- You might lead one in time, I fear, to Vice! Old blear-eyed mutt, beloved and accurst! Before you go, a song for old sake's sake; A song memorial to the days and nights When I companioned with the Dipsas Snake And bared my throat unto his febrous bites, Quenching a thirst to gain a greater thirst. II--IN THE OLD DAYS To Paul Thompson Liquor there is, but, oh! the Bar is gone! The long Brass Rail above the Sawdust Floor, The gay Hot Dog, the gleaming Cuspidore, The bright, brave Nose that brave, bright lights shone on, The jocund Barkeep, Ed or A1 or John, The ribald jest I loved, the answering roar That jangled the glasses, shook the swinging door--- Liquor there is, but these delights are done! In the old days when bubbles winked at me, In the glad days when I was steeped in Rum, I played the Prospero to fantasy, I drank, and bade my Ariel fancies come.” But I have lost my ancient wizardry And mine old self, my lyric self, is dumb. III--A DIPSEY CHANTEY To Ned Leamy [Ill 0106] Ho! Heave the anchor! Heave! Fetch her up! Twist! with the corkscrews! Steward, lend a hand! Let her prance out to sea like a frolic-footed pup, For the ship is full of liquor, and to hell with the land! Ghosts from the ocean abysses, clambering, clamour- ing, come; Climb to our decks and roar: “Broach us a puncheon of rum! We are scaly with salt and sand; we've had nothing but water to swallow-- Stave in a hogshead of rum! Let us roll in the scuppers and wallow!”