A stump of a tooth, that was all, in his mouth —
A vagabond, always half-dead with the drouth,
Who sober, had little to say.
But give him a drink, and then one would see,
With his pipe in his mouth and his hat on his knee,
How he'd talk for a night and a day.

Then: " Once I had stock and once I had store,
A house of my own and prime cattle galore,
A table and dresser and delf.
And the best of the country sat down at my board,
Fed full and hearty and thanking the Lord,
In the very same voice, thanked myself.

" Invited to parties! Aye, always the first,
Till the neighbours grew sick of my damnable thirst
And shut their black doors in my face!
Then to add to my sorrows the bailiffs came round,
Put my acres to auction, my beasts to the pound,
And now — neither penny nor place!

Four score his years. Half-dead with the drouth,
Porter he'd drink through a clay-crusted clout,
But sober he's nothing to say.
But give him a deoch if you've porter to spare,
And see him sit down at his ease on a chair,
And he'll speak for a night and a day.