Poetry Archives

Father drank himself to death,—
          Quite enjoyed it.
Urged to draw a sober breath
          He’d avoid it.
‘Save your sympathy,’ said Dad;
          ‘Never sought it.
Hob-nail liver, gay and glad,
          Sure,—I bought it.’

Uncle made a heap of dough,
          Ponies playing.
‘Easy come and easy go,’
          Was his saying.
Though he died in poverty
          Fit he thought it,
Grinning with philosophy:
          ‘Guess I bought it.’

Auntie took the way of sin,
          Seeking pleasure;
Lovers came, her heart to win,
          Bringing treasure.
Sickness smote,—with lips that bled
          Brave she fought it;
Smiling on her dying bed:
          ‘Dears, I bought it.’

My decades of life are run,
          Eight precisely;
Yet I’ve lost a lot of fun
          Living wisely.
Too much piety don’t pay,
          Time has taught it;
Hadn’t guts to go astray;
Life’s a bloody bore today,—
          Well, I’ve bought it.