I came to be the dirty sot you see before you now;
As I told you, once I was a man, with muscle, frame and health,
And, but for a blunder, ought to have made considerable wealth.
“I was a painter—not one that daubed on bricks and wood.
But an artist, and, for my age, was rated pretty good;
I worked hard at my canvas, and was bidding fair to rise;
For gradually I saw the star of fame before my eyes.
“I made a picture, perhaps you’ve seen, ’tis called the Chase of Fame;
It brought me fifteen hundred pounds, and added to my name;
And then, I met a woman—now comes the funny part—