It wouldn't matter if she did get a little tipsy tonight for she was going to bed soon and she could gargle cologne before Mammy came up to unlace her.
Oh the ostler has a tipsy cat that played a five-stringed fiddle and up and down he saws his bow now squeaking high. Now purring low. Now sawing in the middle.
So I might have been tipsy or merry, up until the sixth gin and tonic, and then it was that sixth one that tipped me over the edge and made me downright crazy.
Well, actually, I may have gotten a little tipsy when I talked to her. And I may have hit on her a little bit. I may have thrown up rum cake on her shoes.
And the red face is really the least of it. After having that one beer, I didn't feel tipsy at all, but my heart rate doubled. My eyes were bloodshot, and within half hour I had a headache.