Barleycorn, my jo John! They say that we must part! 'Twill mend my stomach, maybe, But, O! it breaks my heart! I hoped that we should grow old Cheek by jowl together, Boozing by the fireside Through the wintry weather;-- With white hair and red face, Full of dreams and liquor, Watching from an armchair The firelight flicker;-- But Barleycorn, my jo John, Fare ye well forever!-- The preachers have my soul, John, The doctors have my liver! And I shall have an old age Dry and dull as virtue-- But never think, my dear friend, I'm happy to desert you! Barleycorn, my jo John! To think that we should part--. They say 'twill save my eyesight, But, O; it breaks my heart! XXV--AFTER SEVERAL HIGHBALLS To Clive Weed I saw three roses on the wall, Three red, red roses on the wall, Repeated in a pattern: The first, I Cleopatra call, The second one's named Sadie Hall, The third one is a slattern. Three flowers, all curlycues and swirls, Each blare-mouthed like a trumpet; One used to fish for swine with pearls, The second was the best of girls, The third one was a strumpet. Three red-mouthed roses on the wall As bright and hot as blood; The first one caused an empire fall, The second was just Sadie Hall, The third died in the mud. XXVI--CHANT ROYAL OF THE DEJECTED DIPSOMANIAC To Hal Steed Some fools keep ringing the dumb waiter bell Just as I finish killing Uncle Ned; I wonder if they could have heard him yell? A moment since I cursed at them and said: “This is a pretty time to bring the ice!” --Old Uncle Ned! Two times of late, or thrice, I've thought of prodding him with something keen, But always Fate has seemed to intervene; Last night, for instance, I was in the mood, But I was far too drunken yestere'en----- My way of life can end in nothing good! At Mrs. Dumple's, last week, when I fell And spoiled her dinner party I was led Out to a cab; they saw I was not well And took me home and tucked me into bed. I should quit mingling hashish with my rice! I should give over singing “Three Blind Mice”