Oscar HummelI staggered on through darkness,There was a hazy sky, a few starsWhich I followed as best I could.It was nine o’clock, I was trying to get home.But somehow I was lost,Though really keeping the road.Then I reeled through a gate and into a yard,And called at the top of my voice:“Oh, Fiddler! Oh, Mr. Jones!”(I thought it was his house and he would show me the way home. )But who should step out but A. D. Blood,In his night shirt, waving a stick of wood,And roaring about the cursed saloons,And the criminals they made?“You drunken Oscar Hummel,” he said,As I stood there weaving to and fro,Taking the blows from the stick in his handTill I dropped down dead at his feet.
I staggered on through darkness,There was a hazy sky, a few starsWhich I followed as best I could.It was nine o’clock, I was trying to get home.But somehow I was lost,Though really keeping the road.Then I reeled through a gate and into a yard,And called at the top of my voice:“Oh, Fiddler! Oh, Mr. Jones!”(I thought it was his house and he would show me the way home. )But who should step out but A. D. Blood,In his night shirt, waving a stick of wood,And roaring about the cursed saloons,And the criminals they made?“You drunken Oscar Hummel,” he said,As I stood there weaving to and fro,Taking the blows from the stick in his handTill I dropped down dead at his feet.