I must have some more spirit to keep me up, not that I heed the lie,
The doctor told you this morning that before very long I must die.
I expect, if I had some of the gold your old aunt used to keep,
He would manage to raise me up all right--you think I had better sleep,
You think me ungrateful, perhaps; reach some brandy and then you'll see
How more than grateful I am, what a pattern of patience I'll be.
No money, no means, the last thing's gone, and Ethel and you in need!
Well, you must have managed badly enough with only two mouths to feed,
For you can't count me as much, the little support I take,
A little stimulant now and then, swallowed only for your sake.
Aimee, I must have some now--nothing left? what is that glittering thing?
Aimee, you dear one, dispose of that; of what use is our wedding ring?
Don't be cross for the sake of the child, you say, why you angel dear,
Who would ever doubt you, so good, so true, you have nothing to fear.
And then you're always trusting in God, and surely he would approve
Of your selling your wedding ring for him that you've sworn to love?
I wish that wind would stop howling, it says such queer things to me,
Wake up, little Ethel, and send her before it's too dark to see
If that old fraud of a pawnbroker gives her the change all right.
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