Walter Everette Hawkins, "Wail on a Wicked Bachelor" (1909)
Ho, every one who would be wise!
Come, hearken to my wail;
The hero if ye should despise,
Spare him who tells the tale.
A bachelor lived in our town,
As sour as the rest;
He won distinction and renown,
As one ill-tempered pest.
A selfish life this bachelor led,
Within his lone retreat;
The hungry thrice per day he fed
When he sat down to eat.
He claimed no comforts for his lot,
No bounties he desired;
The outcast shared his humble cot,
Whenever he retired.
He grumbled with both quick and dead,
As he alone could wish;
He on the waters cast his bread,
When he went off to fish.
A proverb heard this wicked soul,
“Go to the ant; be wise;”
Straight to his aunt he went and stole
Her gold before her eyes.
At length he sought a wife to wed,
To share his ill-got pelf;
He found a wizen, witch-like maid
As wicked as himself.
They growled and grumbled night and day,
Each struggling to be free;
Too much alike in every way
For either to agree.
At last she took his coffee cup,
And doped it on the sly;
And when he drank the final drop
At once fell back to die.
And when upon his dying bed,
His head bent to his breast,
He lifted up his feeble head
And made one last request.
He asked her that his money go,
To bachelors who were free:
She hurled one sharp, defiant, “no!
I'll spend it all on me."
Once more he lifted up his head,
Defiant eye met eye;
He sprang up from his bed and said:
"I just refuse to die!"
Published in Chords and Discords, 1909