I admire Joe Smith—I du—I’ll wrap up his memory in lavender,
And if you love me, reader (as I’m sure you cannot help it),
Go thou and do likewise.
Mourn for Smith; mourn, mourn, ye peoples!
O songsters, bards of all times, climes, regions, and generations,
O warblers, tenori, bassi, contralti, and mezzi-soprani,
O Christian men of every land and language,
O kings, priests, presidents, khans, kaisers, and subjects.
O infinitively diversified inhabitants of this revolving kosmos,
Sing, and sing, and sing, and keep on singing his honour and glory,