Oh, I never felt so wretched, and things never looked so blue <br />Since the days I gulped the physic that my Granny used to brew; <br />For a friend in whom I trusted, entering my room last night, <br />Stole a bottleful of Heenzo from the desk whereon I write. <br /> <br />I am certain sure he did it (though he never would let on), <br />For all last week he had a cold and to-day his cough is gone; <br />Now I'm sick and sore and sorry, and I'm sad for friendship's sake <br />(It was better than the cough-cure that our Granny used to make). <br /> <br />Oh, he might have pinched my whisky, and he might have pinched my beer, <br />Or all the fame or money that I make while writing here – <br />Oh, he might have shook the blankets and I'd not have made a row, <br />If he'd only left my Heenzo till the morning, anyhow. <br /> <br />So I've lost my faith in Mateship, which was all I had to lose <br />Since I lost my faith in Russia and myself and got the blues; <br />And so trust turns to suspicion, and so friendship turns to hate, <br />Even Kaiser Bill would never pinch his Heenzo from a mate.<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-tragedy/
