A Domestic Tragedy

Clorinda met me on the way

As I came from the train;

Her face was anything but gay,

In fact, suggested pain.

"Oh hubby, hubby dear!" she cried,

"I've awful news to tell. . . ."

"What is it, darling?" I replied;

"Your mother — is she well?"

"Oh no! oh no! it is not that,

It's something else," she wailed,

My heart was beating pit-a-pat,

My ruddy visage paled.

Like lightning flash in heaven's dome

The fear within me woke:

"Don't say," I cried, "our little home

Has all gone up in smoke!"

She shook her head. Oh, swift I clasped

And held her to my breast;

"The children! Tell me quick," I gasped,

"Believe me, it is best."

Then, then she spoke; 'mid sobs I caught

These words of woe divine:

"It's coo-coo-cook has gone and bought

A new hat just like mine."