Page:Backblock Ballads and Later Verses (C.J. Dennis, 1918).djvu/128

He lacks all soul for music, too;
    He hates the gramophone;
And when we play some dance-tune new
    I've often heard him groan.
He says our music gives him sad,
    Sad thoughts of slaughtered things.
I think Smith is a little mad;
    Nice thoughts to me it brings.

Now, I have quite a kindly heart;
    Good works I do not stint;
Last week I spoke to Smith apart,
    And dropped a gentle hint.
He will be snubbed, I told him flat,
    By neighbours round about,
Unless he wears a better hat
    On Sundays, when he's out.

Last Sunday morn he passed my place
    About the hour of four;
A smile serene was on his face,
    And rakishly he wore
A most dilapidated hat
    Upon his shameless head.
"This ought to keep 'em off the mat,"
    He yelled. I cut him dead.