A couple of poems my father taught me when I was but
He is not drunk who, from the floor,
Can rise again and drink some more.
But he is drunk who prostrate lies,
And cannot drink, and cannot rise.
It was late in last September (Oh how well do I remember)
That I walked along the street in manly pride.
And my head went all a-flutter, and I fell down in the gutter,
And a pig came 'long and lay down by my side.
As I lay there in the gutter with my head still all a-flutter,
Two ladies passing by did chance to say,
"You can tell a man that boozes by the company he chooses,"
And the pig got up and slowly walked away.