I’m off to Alabama like a rocket.
I wish he’d use a hundred pound torpedo,
And make the people mount in air, as we do.
There go the rocks? “Click, click?” A moment more
And I am free, that never was before!
Yes. “Free among the dead,” though some, I heard,
Were betting “ten to five upon the bird.”
But can their jargon from the land of death
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Or will my ghost be glad, when I am gone,