Poem by Henry Lawson

The Tragedy

Oh, I never felt so wretched, and things never looked so blue 
Since the days I gulped the physic that my Granny used to brew; 
For a friend in whom I trusted, entering my room last night, 
Stole a bottleful of Heenzo from the desk whereon I write. 

I am certain sure he did it (though he never would let on), 
For all last week he had a cold and to-day his cough is gone; 
Now I’m sick and sore and sorry, and I’m sad for friendship’s sake 
(It was better than the cough-cure that our Granny used to make). 

Oh, he might have pinched my whisky, and he might have pinched my beer, 
Or all the fame or money that I make while writing here – 
Oh, he might have shook the blankets and I’d not have made a row, 
If he’d only left my Heenzo till the morning, anyhow. 

So I’ve lost my faith in Mateship, which was all I had to lose 
Since I lost my faith in Russia and myself and got the blues; 
And so trust turns to suspicion, and so friendship turns to hate, 
Even Kaiser Bill would never pinch his Heenzo from a mate.

1. When the Bush Begins to Speak
2. On the Wallaby
3. The Poets of the Tomb
4. The Days When We Went Swimming
5. The Uncultured Rhymer to His Cultured Critics

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