I left this Vale of Tears to gain repose,
And change, for Harp and Wings, my worldly clothes;
There's no redress, so if I _fall_ from grace
I'll be quite cool enough for _either_ place.
Wed
Bled
Fled
Dead
Nufsed
Go not the way I went, O Mortal Man!
But follow out a more successful plan,
Lest you, as I am now, remorseful be
For imitating U. S. Currency.
For forty cents an hour I slaved
At Delpont's Powder Mills;
And all the money that I saved
Scarce paid my funeral bills.
Erected to our father is this stone:
He couldn't leave the whiskey flask alone;
To Spirit World he vanished from our sight;
We hope he's very snug, and _know_ he's tight.
Above the clouds I sojourn now,
The twinkling stars between,
Because I tried to figure how
To cook with gasolene.
I'm _dead_ all right, but not quite _all right_ dead,
For schemes of vengeance hurtle thru my head;
My wife eloped, a cheating chicken she;
Forsook her nest, and then flew back to me
With all her brood: I love her as I useter
But I'm a-laying for that other Rooster.
I followed Father with the rake
The day he scythed the clover;
So _green_, he cut _me_, by mistake
And my heydays were over.
Here sleeps, at last, our little baby Yorick!
_We_ couldn't make him _without paregoric_.
I'm not averse to being dead,
But this I do despise,--
To have a tombstone at my head
Inscribed with blooming lies:
"A faithful spouse, a parent kind;
Alas, too soon he went!"
But this is all they had in mind--
To get my last red cent.
Assembled here my Wife is, Helen Nation:
'Twas gasoline that caused the separation,
Which shows how very short the mortal lease is,--
I think 'twas lucky to have saved the pieces!
Here let me rest without a sigh or tear,
I've learned my lesson--not to interfere!
If I could live my mortal life agin
I'd be a pussyfoot and not butt in.
My Mother, famous for her pies
Lies buried 'neath this shaft;
I wonder if, in Paradise,
She still pursues her craft?
She'll be too much engrossed, 'twould seem,
In picking on the lyre
To give attention to a scheme
To bake without a fire.
But if perchance she had the dough
And couldn't make it rise,
I'm sure she'd know just where to go
To look for _heat_ supplies.
He called me "Liar!" Like a flash
My honor I defended,
Until his razor cut a gash
So deep, that I was ended.
If I could live my life again
I'd not invite an issue
But say, when villified, Amen!
And thus preserve my tissue.