Oh, give to me the freshest drink,— A draught as smooth as silk And whiter than the kitchen sink,— A pail full of milk! Pour it with love, and watch it flow, (Nor spill a drop, for dread!) Pour it precisely, enjoy the show, And give it a foamy head! I drink it ere the morning sun Hath waked the early bird: I wake and make a midnight run To taste the lazy herd. I rise at dawn and drink again, And drink throughout the day; Then drink a nightcap (or nine or ten) And dream of curds and whey. I've heard it said I drink too much, And this is understood; But man has never died from such, And, oh! it's just so good! *
A banshee once went on a date,— A dinner. It wasn't so great: She started to cry Right across from the guy, Who then choked and fell dead on his plate. *
Some hold it true that Erin’s creamy skin
Is clearly fairest in both grain and hue;
And I have seen such porcelain skin as hin-
ted quite convincingly that this was true.
Some hold it true the Aztec’s nut-brown hide
(Made with Quetzal’s chocolate from long ago)
Is fairest, and understandably deride
The purblind eyes of those who do not know.
And others, still, prefer a different cast,—
A different color, texture, shade, and tone.
And most enjoy a rude debate on taste.
I argue not, but leave them all alone:
I’d rather go and dream a blissful dream
Of chocolate skin kissed wet with Irish cream.