I've been very poorly, but now I feel prime, I've been out today for the very first time. I felt like a lad as I walk'd down the road, Then I met old Jones and he said: 'Well, I'm blow'd! My word! You do look queer! My word! You do look queer! Oh dear! You look dreadful: you've had a near shave, You look like a man with one foot in the grave.' I said, 'Bosh! I'm better; it's true I've been ill.' He said, 'I'm delighted you're better, but still, I wish you'd a thousand for me in your will. My word! You do look queer!' That didn't improve me, it quite put me back, Still, I walk'd further on, and I met Cousin Jack. He look'd at me hard, and he murmur'd, 'Gee whiz! It's like him! It can't be! It isn't! It is! By gosh! Who'd have thought it? Well, well, I declare! I'd never have known you except for your hair. My word! You do look queer! My word! You do look queer! Your cheeks are all sunk and your colour's all gone, Your neck's very scraggy; still, you're getting on. How old are you now? About fifty, that's true. Your father died that age, your mother did too. Well, the black clothes I wore then'll come in for you. My word! You do look queer!' That really upset me; I felt quite cast down, But I tried to buck up, and up came old Brown. He star'd at me hard, then he solemnly said, 'You shouldn't be out, you should be home in bed. I heard you were bad, well I heard you were gone. You look like a corpse with an overcoat on. My word! You do look queer! My word! You do look queer! You'd best have a brandy before you drop dead.' So, pale as a sheet, I crawl'd in 'The King's Head'. The bar-maid sobb'd, 'Oh, you poor fellow,' and then She said, 'On the slate you owe just one-pound-ten. You'd better pay up, we shan't see you again.' My word! You do look queer! My knees started knocking, I did feel so sad. Then Brown said, 'Don't die in a pub, it looks bad!' He said, 'Come with me, I'll show you what to do. Now I've got a friend who'll be useful to you.' He led me to Black's Undertaking Depot, And Black, with some crepe round his hat, said, 'Hello, My word! You do look queer! My word! You do look queer! Now we'll fix you up for a trifling amount. Now what do you say to a bit on account?' I said, 'I'm not dying.' He said, 'Don't say that! My business of late has been terribly flat, But I'm telling my wife she can have that new hat. My word! You do look queer!' I crawl'd in the street and I murmur'd, 'I'm done.' Then up came old Jenkins and shouted, 'Old son! My word! you do look well! My word! you do look well! You're looking fine and in the pink!' I shouted, 'Am I? Come and have a drink! You've put new life in me, I'm sounder than a bell. By gad! There's life in the old dog yet. My word, I do feel well!'

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