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

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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.