I guess that I'm done for, old chappie!
Done, whether she loves me or not,—
But don't look so deuced unhappy,—
Y'know it was I fired the shot.
Thanks, awfully. Give me the whiskey,—
There's a horrible pain in my head;
It's queer that my nerves should be frisky
When my heart is as heavy as lead.
I'm worthless; I own it! She told me,
That night at the Country Club ball,—
Don't try, dear old fellow, to hold me,—
Ah, Nellie!--it's over!--don't call!
She told me my life had been wasted,
That my money had ruined my mind,
That I'd not left a pleasure untasted,—
Had been a disgrace to mankind!
And now she's to marry another,—
A poor man, but honest and strong,
Who had never a passion to smother,
And never a chance to do wrong.
He loves her. They'll all think it funny
I don't curse him and kill him, old fel;
But she loves him. I've left him my money,—
For I love her—God bless her! Farewell!