When the fiddler finishes playing a sweet, slow and tear-jearking version of Maggie (When I first said I loved only you Maggie, and you said you loved only me) she wipes away a tear, then looks over to see the sad poet, and two strangers at a table with a familiar box.

Oh RATS! I thought I threw that thing into the jello pit a while back. I HATE it when I cry on my bow. It ruins the hairs. I thought I was going to play Whiskey Before breakfast and then . . . Oh well, I guess I'll just go over and drink with MMario.