Western field . 262 WESTERN FIELD. THERES a tavern just off of the highway,Well known to convivial hearts,Wending hither from hedge, lane and byway,Thence zigzagging each to his parts. Mine host, hes a jolly good fellow. Keeping ever a wide open door;His broad, beaming face, fringed with yellow, Welcomes all in to sample his store. His cellar a vale of Valence is. His bar is a breath from Bordeaux; He the best of good tippling dispenses,As all who take pot-luck there know. Here the merry young blades hold high revel,And carousal keeps up its loud hum; Here to doze in a drunken dishevel,The dro
Western field . 262 WESTERN FIELD. THERES a tavern just off of the highway,Well known to convivial hearts,Wending hither from hedge, lane and byway,Thence zigzagging each to his parts. Mine host, hes a jolly good fellow. Keeping ever a wide open door;His broad, beaming face, fringed with yellow, Welcomes all in to sample his store. His cellar a vale of Valence is. His bar is a breath from Bordeaux; He the best of good tippling dispenses,As all who take pot-luck there know. Here the merry young blades hold high revel,And carousal keeps up its loud hum; Here to doze in a drunken dishevel,The drowsy old topers all come. I oft have strayed down from my castle,Allured by the sounds of good cheer. And viewed the gay crowd at their wassailWith envy, till twilight drew near. For mine host, though he free with his grogis. And fully in touch with their fun,Puts an end to their afternoon orgies With the going down of the sun. Dont tell if you catch me a-stumbling:Id not have the folks know Ive been Where the Bees sit a boozing an
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectsports, bookyear1902
