Australian Tales - Setis

The Wag, and the Wager.
THERE once lived a tippler, I need not tell where,
The genus is lucklessly not very rare.
If you doubt it, just walk through our streets for an hour,
And doubts will flee, faster than pigs in a shower.
The veteran toper of whom I now write
Would tipple strong liquor from morning till night;
His nose was as red as an over-ripe plum,
Surcharged with the essence of brandy and rum.
He one day agreed a large bet to decide,
And prove his good taste, all his glory and pride:
With eyes closely bandaged, by taste or by smell,
The names of all liquids he'd instantly tell.
The stakes were paid down, and the bandage was tied,
Then Nosey with spirits and wine was supplied.
Each sample presented, he named with a grin,
Which shook his fat sides, for he thought he would win.
And said, as he chuckled, “why who would suppose
I'd not know the stuff that has painted my nose?
My every day diet for forty-five years!
Pooh! none but sheer ninnies could have such ideas.”
“Come take off the bandage — the wager is won.”
“Hold! hold!” cried a wag, “wait a bit, I've not done.”
He then of pure water, poured out a full glass,
And grinned like a blackfellow riding an ass.
Old Tom took the glass, and sipped and then smelt it,
Then close to his car he attentively held it.
Quoth he, “it's not grog; to that fact I would swear;
But what stuff it is, I don't know, I declare.”
“It ain't got no flavor; it won't hiss nor fizz — ”
“Time's up,” cried the wag, “Can you tell what it is?”
“I can't,” said old Tom, (with a grunt like a boar),
“For I never have tasted such liquor before.”