Shell be foggy the morning
beside Dublin…
the train he run fiery
arising af the garden
whera ad passed,
behind the hunting with mastiff,
of country working day
with my friend Vera Martin.

Had raimed quite
y it I have run the carmine.
I raid to him “non import”…
y I give jasmine.

Already drawing on the hour
in the clock of a cain
which on the whatch he was
under a bridge. But ad last in the sade
I knocken, of a firing,
a “poli” with his rifle.

The ambulance prompt arrive
they take again at malign
y we can to follow the path
alls those I have are here.

Vera he was very restless
but I say to him who !ad last!
whole those succeed this night
he is not more who a adjacent story.

So that of to while away the time
we shall have arriveen up to the end.