class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="[30]"/>But she did not survive a day;
Poor Sue, she had no parlour tricks
And hardly anything to say.
A little strychnine in her tea
Finished her off, and I was free.

Yet I did not despair, and soon!
In spite of failures, started off
Upon my seventh honeymoon
With Jane; but could not stand her cough.
'Twas chronic. Kindness was in vain.
I pushed her underneath the train.

Well, after her, I married Kate.
A most unpleasant woman. Oh!
I caught her at the garden gate
Kissing a man I didn't know;
And, as that didn't suit me quite,
I blew her up with dynamite.

Most married men, so sorely tried
As this, would have been rather bored.
Not I, but chose another bride
And married Ruth. Alas! she snored!
I served her just the same as Kate,
And so she joined the other eight.

My last was Grace; I am not clear,
I think she didn't like me much;
She used to scream when I came near,
And shuddered at my lightest touch.
She seemed to wish to keep aloof,
And so I threw her off the roof.

This is the point I wish to make:—
From all the wives for whom I grieve,
Whose lives I had perforce to take,
Not one complaint did I receive;
And no expense was spared to please
My spouses at their obsequies.

My habits, I would have you know,
Are perfect, as they've always been;
You ask if I am good, and go
To church, and keep my fingers clean?
I do, I mean to say I am,
I have the morals of a lamb.

In my domains there is no sin,
Virtue is rampant all the time,
Since I so thoughtfully brought in
A bill which legalizes crime;
Committing things that are not wrong
Must pall before so very long.

And if what you imagine vice
Is not considered so at all,
Crime doesn't seem the least bit nice,
There's no temptation then to fall;
For half the charm of things we do
Is knowing that we oughtn't to.

Believe me, then, I am not bad,
Though in my youth I had to trek
Because I happened to have had
Some difficulties with a cheque.
What forgery in some might be
Is absentmindedness in me!

I know that I was much abused,
No doubt when I was young and rash,
But I should not have been accused
Of misappropriating cash.
I may have sneaked a silver dish;—
Well, you may search me if you wish!

So, now you see me, more or less,
As I would figure in your thoughts;
A trifle given to excess
And prone perhaps to vice of sorts;
When tempted, rather apt to fall,
But still—a good chap after all!

The Cat