He was bare — we don’ t want to be rude — ( His condition was owing to drink ) They say his condition was nood, Which amounts to the same thing, we think
( We mean his condition, we think, ’ Twas a naked condition, or nood, Which amounts to the same thing, we think ) Uncovered he lay on the grass
That shrivelled and shrunk; and he stayed Three hot summer days, while the glass Was one hundred and ten in the shade. ( We nearly remarked that he laid,
But that was bad grammar we thought — It does sound bucolic, we think It smacks of the barnyard — Of farming — of pullets in short. )
Unheeded he lay on the dirt; Beside him a part of his dress, A tattered and threadbare old shirt Was raised as a flag of distress.
( On a stick, like a flag of distress — Reversed — we mean that the tail-end was up Half-mast — on a stick — an evident flag of distress. ) Perhaps in his dreams he persood
Bright visions of heav’ nly bliss; And artists who study the nood Never saw such a study as this. The‘ luggage’ went by and the guard
Looked out and his eyes fell on Grice — We fancy he looked at him hard, We think that he looked at him twice. They say ( if the telegram’ s true )
When he woke up he wondered ( good Lord! ) ‘ Why the engine-man didn’ t heave to — Why the train didn’ t take him aboard.’ And now, by the case of poor Grice,
We think that a daily express Should travel with sunshades and ice, And a lookout for flags of distress.
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