Classic Poem

Thrust her in the dead-car box!
Jump aboard—let's have a ride!
Ring the merry engine bell:
Death has claimed another bride!
Pass the gin to every one,
Pull the throttle open wide—
Pobre de solemnidad!

Now we start—we round the curve—
Down the busy street we go!
There is Gardner's circus-tent,
And to-night we'll see the show!
Through the window stick your head—
Wave your hat to all you know—
Pobre de solemnidad!

Here Fox River is at last—
See those men and women fight!
Sal, old gal, give me a smoke—
Bless my skin, that sun is bright!
Here we are at Monkey Hill;
Lend a hand—the corpse is light:
Pobre de solemnidad!

Up the weedy slope we climb:
Billy Black, you're drunk, I swear!
And so are you! and you! and you!
And so am I, I do declare!
Now you've dropped her! Pick her up!
Leave the lid—we're almost there!
Pobre de solemnidad!

Dump her in the common grave!
Aren't those lilies mighty sweet?
In she goes! Now heap the earth—
Never mind to be so neat!
There's no need to make it deep—
No frost here to nip her feet:
Pobre de solemnidad!