A young man once, I don't know why
Of melancholy spleen did die
And was duly buried too.
Then along came a bel esprit
Whose belly was running rather free
As people's bellies sometimes do.
He sat down, as it wouldn't keep
On the grave, and left his little heap;
Benignly his muck he contemplated,
Went his ways much alleviated,
And musing to himself did say:
Poor fellow! a life spent amiss!
I'm sorry he has passed away.
If he'd only learnt to shit like this
He'd be alive today!