I guess that I'm done for, old chappie!

Done, whether she loves me or not,—

But don't look so deuced unhappy,—

Y'know it was I fired the shot.

Thanks, awfully. Give me the whiskey,—

There's a horrible pain in my head;

It's queer that my nerves should be frisky

When my heart is as heavy as lead.

I'm worthless; I own it! She told me,

That night at the Country Club ball,—

Don't try, dear old fellow, to hold me,—

Ah, Nellie!--it's over!--don't call!

She told me my life had been wasted,

That my money had ruined my mind,

That I'd not left a pleasure untasted,—

Had been a disgrace to mankind!

And now she's to marry another,—

A poor man, but honest and strong,

Who had never a passion to smother,

And never a chance to do wrong.

He loves her. They'll all think it funny

I don't curse him and kill him, old fel;

But she loves him. I've left him my money,—

For I love her—God bless her! Farewell!