The poor old geezer lost his grip
And shot himself in his good right hip.
He flung the gun into the dirt
and grabbed the spot the shot had hurt.
He yelled, “It’s Sadie I prefer
but I’ll not shoot myself for her!”
Then the cobblestones he did tread,
and using granny’s finest thread
He sewed a patch on his good right hip,
and a gallon of rotgut he did sip.