A CHRISTMAS WAIL
(Not by Dante Gabriel Rossetti)
ON Christmas day I dined with Brown.
(Oh the dinner was fine to see!)
I drove to his house, right merrily down,
To a western square of London town.
(And I moan and I cry, Woe's me!)
We dined off turkey and Christmas beef:
(Oh the dinner was fine to see!)
My anguish is sore and my comfort's brief,
And nought but blue pills can ease my grief,
(As I moan and I cry, Woe's me!)
We gorged plum-pudding and hot mince pies,
(Oh the dinner was fine to see!)
And other nameless atrocities,
The weight of which on my—bosom lies.
(And I moan and I cry, Woe's me!)
We drank dry Clicquot and rare old port,
(Oh the dinner was fine to see!)
And I pledged my host for a right good sort
In bumpers of both, for I never thought
(I should moan and cry, Woe's me!)
But I woke next day with a fearful head,
(Oh that dinner was fine to see!)
And on my chest is a weight like lead,
And I frequently wish that I were dead,
(And I moan and I cry, Woe's me!)
And as for Brown—why the truth to tell—
(Oh that dinner was fine to see!)
I hate him now with the hate of hell,
Though before I loved him passing well,
(And I moan and I cry, Woe's me!)
Anonymous.