For an "afternoon lark,"
With a very fast horse of "remarkable dash."
And Philiper handled a billiard-cue
About as well as the best he knew,
And used to say
"He could make it pay
By playing two or three games a day."
And Philiper Flash was his mother's joy,
He seemed to her the magic alloy
That made her glad,
When her heart was sad,
With the thought that "she lived for her darling boy."
His dear good mother wasn't aware
How her darling boy relished a "tare."—
She said "one night
He gave her a fright
By coming home late and acting tight."
Young Philiper Flash, on a winterish day,
Was published a bankrupt, so they say—
And as far as I know
I suppose it was so,
For matters went on in a singular way;
His excellent mother, I think I was told,
Died from exposure and want and cold;
And Philiper Flash,
With a horrible slash,
Whacked his jugular open and went to smash.
