Once—but no matter when—
There lived—no matter where—
A man, whose name—but then
I need not that declare.

He—well, he had been born,
And so he was alive;
His age—I details scorn—
Was somethingty and five.

He lived—how many years
I truly can't decide;
But this one fact appears
He lived—until he died.

"He died," I have averred,
But cannot prove 't was so,
But that he was interred,
At any rate, I know.

I fancy he'd a son,
I hear he had a wife:
Perhaps he'd more than one,
I know not, on my life!

But whether he was rich,
Or whether he was poor,
Or neither—both—or which,
I cannot say, I'm sure.

I can't recall his name,
Or what he used to do:
But then—well, such is fame!
'T will so serve me and you.

And that is why I thus,
About this unknown man
Would fain create a fuss,
To rescue, if I can.

From dark oblivion's blow,
Some record of his lot:
But, ah! I do not know
Who—where—when—why—or what.

MORAL

In this brief pedigree
A moral we should find—
But what it ought to be
Has quite escaped my mind!

Anonymous.