Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth;
Whenever it is damp, drizzly November in my soul;
Whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing
before coffin warehouse,
And bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet;
And especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me
that it requires a strong moral principal to prevent me
from deliberately stepping into the street,
and methodically knocking people's hats off - then,
I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. |
