Percy Bysshe ShelleyMy father who owned the wagon-shopAnd grew rich shoeing horsesSent me to the University of Montreal.I learned nothing and returned home,Roaming the fields with Bert Kessler,Hunting quail and snipe.At Thompson’s Lake the trigger of my gunCaught in the side of the boatAnd a great hole was shot through my heart.Over me a fond father erected this marble shaft,On which stands the figure of a womanCarved by an Italian artist.They say the ashes of my namesakeWere scattered near the pyramid of Caius CestiusSomewhere near Rome.
My father who owned the wagon-shopAnd grew rich shoeing horsesSent me to the University of Montreal.I learned nothing and returned home,Roaming the fields with Bert Kessler,Hunting quail and snipe.At Thompson’s Lake the trigger of my gunCaught in the side of the boatAnd a great hole was shot through my heart.Over me a fond father erected this marble shaft,On which stands the figure of a womanCarved by an Italian artist.They say the ashes of my namesakeWere scattered near the pyramid of Caius CestiusSomewhere near Rome.