The Friend with the Silvertone jumps up to ask the Bartender for a quintuple Lagavulin for fixing the double-vision from which he was suffering, as the Lagavulin Elven clearly hadn't read all the posts in the Tavern that night.

He retires to his chair, facing out the door, and plonks yet nother tune to the breeze:

Let your quacks and newspapers be cuttin' their capers

And curing the Vapours, the Scratch and the Gout.
With their medical potions, their pills and their lotions,
Upholdin' their notions, they're mighty put out.

Who can tell the true physic of all things pathetic
And pitch to the Devil Cramp, Colic and Spleen?
Oh you'll find them I think if you take a big drink
With your mouth to the brink of a jug of Poteen.

Then stick to the Cratur the best thing in nature
For drowning your sorrows and raisin' your joys.!
Oh what botherations no bolt to the nation
Can bring consolation like Poteen, me boys!
 
 

A