Who gets his double share of grub?
And if you touch him starts to blub?
My Brother!
’Tis sad to see one’s rackets “go”;
’Tis hard to slog and miss a slow;
You’re worst! for you’re a constant woe,
My Brother!
The Boy’s Own Paper, Feb. 16, 1884.
——:o:——
Some “Confidences” to the Editor.