Bar burlesque & Penleyan comedy I am becoming tolerant of this insipid British drama. Even bad melo doesn’t cause me to vomit as it did of old.
The chances are that he will stay with his first love, the needle, and that the habit will lose the glorious drive and tingle that it had at first, and become the chinaman on his back who drives him like a slave to get more money to buy more junk.
Let's see what prog we have for supper; the kettle has boiled long enough; my stomach cries cupboard; and I'll warrant our guest is in no mood to dally with his trencher.
Left my home in Georgia, headed for the Frisco Bay, I had nothin' to live for, looks like nothin's gonna come my way, I'm just sittin' on the dock of the bay, watchin' the tide roll away, sittin' on the dock of the bay, wastin' time.
