I ever read, or heern, or see

    Is 'long of a drink at Taggart's Hall—

    Tom Taggart's of Gilgal.

    I've heern the tale a thousand ways,

    But never could git through the maze

    That hangs around that queer day's doin's;

    But I'll tell the yarn to youans.

    Tom Taggart stood behind his bar,

    The time was fall, the skies was fa'r,

    The neighbors round the counter drawed,

    And ca'mly drinked and jawed.

    At last come Colonel Blood of Pike,

    And old Jedge Phinn, permiscus-like,

    And each, as he meandered in,

    Remarked, "A whisky-skin."

    Tom mixed the beverage full and fa'r,

    And slammed it, smoking, on the bar.

    Some says three fingers, some says two,—

    I'll leave the choice to you.

    Phinn to the drink put forth his hand;

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