THE evening wore on with the Judge in the chair
While song after song sought the rafter;
We crowned him with holly to match his white hair
And redden the bloom of our laughter:

Chorus
For the Doctor, the Parson, His Honor and me
Were waking the baby that soon was to be.

Around went the bowl while the doctor could stand,
Around while the lawyer could reason,
Till speechless and legless they lay hand in hand,
Conversing on subjects in season.—Chorus.

The Parson like Bacchus was draining a cup
('Twas the wineglass he smashed in his joy, Sir,)
When the maids at the door made the topers look up,
'O Master, O Judge, it's a boy, Sir!'—Chorus.

'A boy!' cried the Parson, 'Ye pagans come down!
All Christians shall sing and be thankful.
Go fetch us the child in his christening gown;
Egad, but we'll give him a tankful!'—Chorus.

'For the Church and the Law and all medical aid
Are here represented in toddy;
The child in a christening dish shall be laid
And good liquor poured over his body.'—Chorus.

The maids gave a squeal could be heard half a mile
And straight locked the doors on the crew, Sir;
And so to our pleasures they left us a while.
It's little that women can do, Sir!

Chorus
But the Doctor, the Parson, His Honor and me
Devoted the night to that little babee.