"The singer himself grew emotional as he proceeded, till she could imagine at last a tear in his eye,"
illustration for MAYOR OF CASTERBRIDGE drawn by Robert Barnes,
Harper's Weekly, January 24, 1888, p. 53.
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"The singer himself grew emotional as he proceeded, till she could imagine at last a tear in his eye,"
illustration for MAYOR OF CASTERBRIDGE drawn by Robert Barnes,
Harper's Weekly, January 24, 1888, p. 53.
There is that jocose drunkard as you may comprehend,
He's full of jokes and laughter, and every-one's his friend;
He slaps you on the back, me lads, and orders up a round,
That jolly jocose drunkard's a treasure to be found.
That jolly jocose drunkard's a treasure to be found.
One drink beyond the jocose and then it's time for tears,
For now the drunkard is morose, he's crying in his beer;
He gets so sentimental, nostalgic and depressed,
He grieves for all he might've been and wails about the rest.
He grieves for all he might've been and wails about the rest.
But when the crying ceases, let the innocent beware,
For now the drunkard's bellicose, with fighting spirit rare;
He loudly picks an argument and wildly swings his fist,
So bellicose a drunkard's a pleasure to be missed.
So bellicose a drunkard's a pleasure to be missed.
The drunkard then becomes subdued, the liquor takes its toll,
For now the drunkard's comatose, 'tis said he's passed out cold;
These are the states of drunkenness through which we all may sink,
But, before we all are comatose – there's time for one last drink!