When a roman was dying, the next man or kin Stood over him gaping to take his breath in. Were Tisdall the same way to blow out his brea[th], Such a whiff to the living were much worse than d[eath]. Any man with a nose would much rather die; So would Jack, so would Dan, so would you, so would I. Without a reproach to the doctor I think Whenever he dies, he must die with a stink. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: GOTTLIEB GERALD by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: WIDOW FORTELKA by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |