That Dick—that's yourself—should have gone in the nerves.
You toy with your breakfast; the kidney, the kipper,
The egg that is buttered, the egg that is fried,
The tea that once found you a regular sipper,
Unsipped and untasted you push them aside.
Your lunch of cold beef with the gaff and the shandy,
You simply can't face it, your head is one ache:
A "diffusible stimulant" (alias brandy)
Is all that you wish for and all that you take.
A day or two back all your manners were courtly,