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Show HOW WHISKEY "GOT MY GOAT" You ask me why from "Wet to Dry" My ideas have changed Just listen Stranger, to my tale, You will not think it strange. I was a Live Stock agent, once, For the old "Milwaukee" Road; My duties were to rustle sheep, And help the ment to load. We had to load them on the cars. ;,:ings we said When some old "pclter" stubbornly Refused to go ahead. One day I bought, and trained a goat To lead them up the chute An.1 took him on the road with me. He surely was a "Beaut." Old "Bill" and I became fast friends. We traveled far and wide; And everywhere I had to go, The goat was at my side. He'd stand beside me at the bar, His feet upon the rail, And from a bottle he would drink And shake his stubby tan. Whene'er he'd see me drinking, He would come with neck outstretched, outstretch-ed, And look up sadly in my eyes As if to say, "I'm Next." One day to Murphy town we went, Old Bill was on the job When he saw some herders drinking From a jug of "Forty Rod " He came and slood beside the men. His neck outstretched, so cute, And they poured the whiskey down him And he lay down in the chute. I knew not what had happened When we started loading .sheep, And I prodded poor old "Billy" Ase he lay there fast asleep. He staggered up and shook himself. And started up the chute, And I wondered what the devil Was the matter with the brute. For he staggered up the gangway And he tumbled in the car And he acted like some other brutes I've seen before the bar. 'Twas the last time that he ever helped To load a car of sheep, . . For he staggered down the gangway gang-way And dropped lifeless at my feet. And, Stranger, since that fatal day No liquor's passed my throat. I'm one of whom It might, be said That, whiskey "Got My Goat." P. J. PLAISTED |
