OF all the men one meets about, There's none like Jack -- he's everywhere: At church -- park -- auction -- dinner -- rout -- Go when and where you will, he's there. Try the West End, he's at your back -- Meets you, like Eurus, in the East -- You're call'd upon for "How do, Jack?" One hundred times a day, at least. A friend of his one evening said, As home he took his pensive way, "Upon my soul, I fear Jack's dead -- I've seen him but three times to-day!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A HUNDRED COLLARS by ROBERT FROST DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: DIRGE FOR WOLFRAM by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE LISBON PACKET by GEORGE GORDON BYRON TO MISS RIGBY, ON HER ATTENDANCE UPON HER MOTHER AT BUXTON by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD CHANCES OF REMEMBRANCE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN MUNUSCULUM by WHEATON H. BREWER |