DANGER!
Look out! Don’t touch me, man, I’m sore! I’m ulcerous—I’m more, I boil, I fume, I sizzle, I’m Cantankerous to the core.
A blister that is being shaved, A wild cat up a tree. A chestnut-bur with every spur An exposed nerve—that’s me!
I am the heat that turns to flame When in Fate’s glass is caught The world’s choice store of toughest luck And focused on one spot.
What’s wrong? Why, eighty dozen things, Each one of which would stall An ORDINARY man—it’s just My rotten day, that’s all!
What’s that? Cheer up? Say that again! No, don’t—just—go away! I’ve never killed a man before— I mustn’t start today.