  MY father was a madman, do you wonder I’m insane? My mother wasn’t pretty, do you wonder I am plain? My father was consumptive, and my hollow cheeks you see; Can you wonder I’m a drunkard when my mother had d.t.? Science speaks out pretty plainly on “hereditary taint,” And the sinner breeds a sinner, as the saint begets a saint; Then why call me Ananias, and reproach me, since, forsooth, My papa was such a liar that I cannot tell the truth? When his ancestors for ages by their own mad acts have died, Do you wonder that a fellow has a taste for suicide? When a nose for generations is the feature of a race, And you know a fellow’s surname just by glancing at his face, And it’s odds on roaring racers having only roaring sons, Do you think that Ananias you should dub a luckless youth Whose papa was such a liar that he cannot tell the truth? |
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