HIS LEGACY
Thelavish legacy of Frank LegreeNo doubt is sorrowing him yet;For once he owned a million francs in gold,But now he owes a million debt.When first he eyed his huge inheritanceHis uncle left to him in fee,He smiled to see himself a millionaire,And moved in best society.He built a tomb for his dear uncle then,And epitaphed him “grand old man,”Though in his life he had ne’er thought of himAnd liked him better dead than—Alive. So then he called his friends around,—Patrons of wine and song and ease;Mild drinks did make him thirst for stronger gins,And small jags grew protracted sprees.He squandered thousands on the race course;In dice he lost at every throw;He scattered change like oatmeal fed to chickens;His pile soon melted down like snow—In July. His banker sent a gentle invitationTo straighten his o’erdrawn account.He did. He sent a bullet in his brainAnd never stopped to ask the amount.The lavish legacy of Frank LegreeNo doubt is sorrowing him yet;Lieu of an earthly million francs in gold,He’s serving time for soul lost debt.
Thelavish legacy of Frank LegreeNo doubt is sorrowing him yet;For once he owned a million francs in gold,But now he owes a million debt.When first he eyed his huge inheritanceHis uncle left to him in fee,He smiled to see himself a millionaire,And moved in best society.He built a tomb for his dear uncle then,And epitaphed him “grand old man,”Though in his life he had ne’er thought of himAnd liked him better dead than—Alive. So then he called his friends around,—Patrons of wine and song and ease;Mild drinks did make him thirst for stronger gins,And small jags grew protracted sprees.He squandered thousands on the race course;In dice he lost at every throw;He scattered change like oatmeal fed to chickens;His pile soon melted down like snow—In July. His banker sent a gentle invitationTo straighten his o’erdrawn account.He did. He sent a bullet in his brainAnd never stopped to ask the amount.The lavish legacy of Frank LegreeNo doubt is sorrowing him yet;Lieu of an earthly million francs in gold,He’s serving time for soul lost debt.
Thelavish legacy of Frank LegreeNo doubt is sorrowing him yet;For once he owned a million francs in gold,But now he owes a million debt.
Thelavish legacy of Frank Legree
No doubt is sorrowing him yet;
For once he owned a million francs in gold,
But now he owes a million debt.
When first he eyed his huge inheritanceHis uncle left to him in fee,He smiled to see himself a millionaire,And moved in best society.
When first he eyed his huge inheritance
His uncle left to him in fee,
He smiled to see himself a millionaire,
And moved in best society.
He built a tomb for his dear uncle then,And epitaphed him “grand old man,”Though in his life he had ne’er thought of himAnd liked him better dead than—
He built a tomb for his dear uncle then,
And epitaphed him “grand old man,”
Though in his life he had ne’er thought of him
And liked him better dead than—
Alive. So then he called his friends around,—Patrons of wine and song and ease;Mild drinks did make him thirst for stronger gins,And small jags grew protracted sprees.
Alive. So then he called his friends around,—
Patrons of wine and song and ease;
Mild drinks did make him thirst for stronger gins,
And small jags grew protracted sprees.
He squandered thousands on the race course;In dice he lost at every throw;He scattered change like oatmeal fed to chickens;His pile soon melted down like snow—
He squandered thousands on the race course;
In dice he lost at every throw;
He scattered change like oatmeal fed to chickens;
His pile soon melted down like snow—
In July. His banker sent a gentle invitationTo straighten his o’erdrawn account.He did. He sent a bullet in his brainAnd never stopped to ask the amount.
In July. His banker sent a gentle invitation
To straighten his o’erdrawn account.
He did. He sent a bullet in his brain
And never stopped to ask the amount.
The lavish legacy of Frank LegreeNo doubt is sorrowing him yet;Lieu of an earthly million francs in gold,He’s serving time for soul lost debt.
The lavish legacy of Frank Legree
No doubt is sorrowing him yet;
Lieu of an earthly million francs in gold,
He’s serving time for soul lost debt.