Soured Spinster. "DON'T MENTION THE HORRID THING, YOUNG WOMAN, AND ME WITH HALF-A-MONTH'S PENSION ON THE PANTHER."
BALLADE OF APPROACHING BALDNESS.
I'm back in civil life, all brawn and chest,
Lungs made of leather, heart as right as rain;
I still could dine off bully-beef with zest;
I've never had a scratch or stitch or sprain;
Life seems to throb in every single vein.
Yet I'm a whited sepulchre, in brief;
I've one foot in the grave, I'm on the wane,