I Staggered On Through Darkness, There Was A Hazy Sky, A Few Stars Which 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 Hand Till I Dropped Down Dead At His Feet.