"Ah, that, indeed. Well, here's a tip: when in the morning you get up, Keep cursing all the time you dress, and swear at night, before you sup, By this no human ear will catch the oathings that will make you light, And take a load from off your mind, and you will win the race--good night." That very night when he went home, he slyly locked the bedroom door, And up and down around the room he scattered curses, and he swore, He cursed before, he cursed behind, he cursed until his face was red, By dint of cursing, and at last he stripped, and tumbled into bed. Next morning many oaths he made, and sandwiched them with many a curse, That sounded weird, and wry, and strange; his oathings they could not possibly be worse. He cursed because he had to rise, he cursed to leave the bed so nice, And warm, and soft, he cursed because the water was as cold as ice. He cursed around the basin-stand, he cursed the water jug, alas! The towel and the soap he cursed, with oath that almost broke the glass. He cursed a button that was loose, he cursed the thread and needle, new, He cursed the irritating starch, he cursed his washerwoman, too. He curbed his braces--they were tied with bits of string, that broke in twain, He fixed them with a pin; it stuck into his spine--he cursed again; He cursed the postman for his knock--'twas by his tailor he was sent; He cursed the landlady who brought the bill; and asked him for the rent. Before, behind, above, below, at right or left, he was not loath To drop a detonating curse, or fling an alternating oath. He cursed the razor and the strop, he cursed the wart upon his nose, He cursed his hair that wouldn't grow, he cursed the corns upon his toes. He cursed a stud and button-hole that was too big; and in the street, He saw a burly constable, and cursed the man upon his beat, He cursed the helmet on his head, the number on his collar, too; He cursed the stripe upon his arm, his mittens, and his suit of blue. He cursed his baton right and left, he cursed it also upside down, He cursed him to the county gaol and back again, and into town. He cursed the lining of his sleeve, a bottle in his pocket--who Had put it there he could not tell--he cursed his aunt, her cockatoo. He cursed the laces of his boots, the cockatoo he cursed again, Again he swore, unlocked the door, and gaily started for the train.