The Precious Word

He staggered from the bar-room door,
   A mound of insobriety;
His left leg seeking to ignore
   It's fellow-leg's society.

"Ah," sniffed a dame across the way,
   With virginal acidity,
"A nice example, I must say,
   To judge by 'is awkwidity."

He swayed beside the pavement's rim,
   And glared with great ferocity,
While fierce invective poured from him
   In billows of verbosity.

"Ah," said the dame,
"Just 'ear 'im rave;
   'E's busting with loquacity,
The beer 'as made 'im very brave.
   Jist 'ark at 'is pubnacity!"