With careful step to keep his balance up
He reels on warily along the street
Slabbering at mouth and with a staggering stoop
Mutters an angry look at all he meets
Bumptious and vain and proud he shoulders up
And would be something if he knew but how
To any man on earth he will not stoop
But cracks of work, of horses and of plough
Proud of the foolish talk, the ale he quaffs
He never heeds the insult loud that laughs
With rosy maid he tries to joke and play
Who shrugs and nettles deep his pomp and pride
And calls him "drunken beast" and runs away
King to himself and fool to all beside