My father who owned the
And grew rich shoeing
Sent 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
Caught in the side of the
And a great hole was shot through my heart.
Over me a fond father erected this marble shaft,
On which stands the figure of a
Carved by an Italian artist.
They say the ashes of my
Were scattered near the pyramid of Caius
Somewhere near Rome.
