The poem
Father drank himself to death,-- Quite enjoyed it. Urged to draw a sober breath He'd avoid it. 'Save your sympathy,' said Dad; 'Never sought it. Hob-nail liver, gay and glad, Sure,--I bought it.'
Uncle made a heap of dough, Ponies playing. 'Easy come and easy go,' Was his saying. Though he died in poverty Fit he thought it, Grinning with philosophy: 'Guess I bought it.'
Auntie took the way of sin, Seeking pleasure; Lovers came, her heart to win, Bringing treasure. Sickness smote,--with lips that bled Brave she fought it; Smiling on her dying bed: 'Dears, I bought it.'
My decades of life are run, Eight precisely; Yet I've lost a lot of fun Living wisely. Too much piety don't pay, Time has taught it; Hadn't guts to go astray; Life's a bloody bore today,-- Well, I've bought it.