| DID my widow flit about | |
| From Mackinac to Los Angeles, | |
| Resting and bathing and sitting an hour | |
| Or more at the table over soup and meats | |
| And delicate sweets and coffee? | 5 |
| I was cut down in my prime | |
| From overwork and anxiety. | |
| But I thought all along, whatever happens | |
| I’ve kept my insurance up, | |
| And there’s something in the bank, | 10 |
| And a section of land in Manitoba. | |
| But just as I slipped I had a vision | |
| In a last delirium: | |
| I saw myself lying nailed in a box | |
| With a white lawn tie and a boutonnière, | 15 |
| And my wife was sitting by a window | |
| Some place afar overlooking the sea; | |
| She seemed so rested, ruddy and fat, | |
| Although her hair was white. | |
| And she smiled and said to a colored waiter: | 20 |
| “Another slice of roast beef, George. | |
| Here’s a nickel for your trouble.” | |
