To George McDaniel 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.
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