Twelve Bottles of Whisky

I had twelve bottles of whisky in my cellar, and my wife told me to empty the contents down the sink "or else!" So I said I would and proceeded with the unpleasant task.

I withdrew the cork from the first bottle and poured the contents down the sink, with the exception of one glass which I drank.

I extracted the cork from the second bottle and likewise, with the exception of the one glass which I drank.

I withdrew the cork from the third bottle and emptied the good old booze down the sink, with the exception of one glass which I drank.

I then pulled the cork out from the fourth sink and poured the bottle down the glass which I drank.

I then pulled the bottle from the cork of the next and rank one sink of it, and threw the rest down the glass.

I pulled the sink out of the next glass and poured the cork down the bottle.

I then pulled the next cork from my throat and poured the sink down the bottle and drank the glass.

Then I corked the sink with the glass, bottled the sink, and drank the pour.

When I had everything emptied, I steadied the house with one hand and counted the bottles and corks and glasses with the other which were 29. To be sure I counted them again when they came by and I had 74, and as the house came by I counted them again. Finally I had all the houses and the bottles and corks and glasses counted except for the one house and one bottle which I drank. I am not under the alcofluence of inchol, as some thinkle peep I am, nor am I half so think as they drunk I am, but I fool so feelish I don't know who is me, and the drunker I stand the lonegr I get.