My Legacies

When I read, as oft it happens,That some kicky millionaire,Has just died and left a fortuneFor his relatives to share,

Then I say alas!—if onlyThat old chap had known me,If I'd had the happy fortuneTo have been his legatee.

For although I've been rememberedBy departed kith and kin,I have never had the presentOf a legacy of tin.

Uncle Samuel always liked me,Though he could not leave me wealth,But I have the gout in memoryOf his poor rheumatic self.

And Aunt Mary, heaven give herAll the peace that she deserves,Left me as a last mementoA large legacy of nerves.

Uncle Robert was a spendthriftAnd had nothing to divide,But his love of ease and luxury,And his share of family pride.

These, alas! as fate would have it,Was my legacy from him,Though he often used to snub meAs the poorest of his kin.

While my dear paternal grand-pa,A good man I never knew,Left me nothing but a recordOf the things he'd hoped to do.

Think you not I've cause to grumbleAnd occasionally repine?Can a man be always cheerfulWho has legacies like mine?