Hard Hit.

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.