Summary

Portrait of Don Marquis Don Marquis The Old Soak, and Hail And Farewell

Liquor there is—but how I miss the Bar! I miss a certain attitude of mind, Congenial, which I seek but never find Except beneath the golden triple star Which from the brandy bottle shines afar. I miss a type of jest that was designed For roaring barrooms warmed with booze, and kind— Good Gawd! how coarse and low my real tastes are. I miss an ambling, splay-foot waiter's beak, Which like some red peninsula of hell Glowed through the humming barroom's smoky reek— I miss the lies I used to hear men tell Over the telephone to waiting wives— What sweet aromas had these joyous lives!
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Don Marquis Don Marquis The Old Soak, and Hail And Farewell

If tobacco goes next, there'll be a crime wave! Take away a man's booze, and he dies, or embraces dope or religion, or goes abroad, or makes it at home, or drinks varnish, or gets philosophical or something. But tobacco! No, sir! There ain't any substitute. Why, the only way they're getting away with this booze thing now is because millions and millions of shattered nerves is solacing and soothing theirselves with tobacco.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Don Marquis Don Marquis The Old Soak, and Hail And Farewell

Home-made booze may be all right to take the grease spots out of the rugs with, but it ain't for the human stomach to drink. Home-made booze is either a farce with no serious kick to it, or else a tragedy with an unhappy ending. No, sir, as soon as what is left has been drank I will kiss good-bye to the shores of this land of holiness and suffering and go to some country where the vegetation just naturally works itself up into liquor in a professional manner, and end my days in contentment and iniquity.
Source: Gutenberg

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