The Tragedy

 Oh, I never felt so wretched, and things never looked so blue 
Since the days I gulped the physic that my Granny used to brew; 
For a friend in whom I trusted, entering my room last night, 
Stole a bottleful of Heenzo from the desk whereon I write. 

I am certain sure he did it (though he never would let on), 
For all last week he had a cold and to-day his cough is gone; 
Now I'm sick and sore and sorry, and I'm sad for friendship's sake 
(It was better than the cough-cure that our Granny used to make). 

Oh, he might have pinched my whisky, and he might have pinched my beer, 
Or all the fame or money that I make while writing here – 
Oh, he might have shook the blankets and I'd not have made a row, 
If he'd only left my Heenzo till the morning, anyhow. 

So I've lost my faith in Mateship, which was all I had to lose 
Since I lost my faith in Russia and myself and got the blues; 
And so trust turns to suspicion, and so friendship turns to hate, 
Even Kaiser Bill would never pinch his Heenzo from a mate.

Form: Light Verse

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