Page 5
THE CHRISTENING
THE evening wore on with the Judge in the chair While song after song sought the rafter; We crowned him with holly to match his white hair And redden the bloom of our laughter:
Chorus
For the Doctor, the Parson, His Honor and me Were waking the baby that soon was to be. Around went the bowl while the doctor could stand, Around while the lawyer could reason, Till speechless and legless they lay hand in hand, Conversing on subjects in season.—Chorus.
The Parson like Bacchus was draining a cup ('Twas the wineglass he smashed in his joy, Sir,) When the maids at the door made the topers look up, "O Master, O Judge, it's a boy, Sir!"—Chorus.