Lament on the Death of Willie

Here's a dreadful (but not dreadfully funny) poem about a "Little Willie" who died from sucking on a toy... which sounds indeed like a great set-up for a standard Little Willie poem, but oh my dear, this is not meant to tickle the funny bone, shock the prim, or praise naughtiness.

It's a cloyingly sentimental bit of troubled verse. It's not even 'so bad, it's good' -- really, it's just bad.

I include it here because it was written in 1876 and so pre-dates Harry Graham's work... but truly, this cannot be considered the origin of our beloved morbid, dark and dank, but light-hearted "Little Willie Poems", can it?

One prays not.

Lament on the Death of Willie

Willie had a purple monkey climbing on a yellow stick,
And when he sucked the paint all off it made him deathly sick;
And in his latest hours he clasped that monkey in his hand,
And bade good-bye to earth and went into a better land.

Oh! no more he'll shoot his sister with his little wooden gun;
And no more he'll twist the pussy's tail and make her yowl, for fun.
The pussy's tail now stands out straight; the gun is laid aside;
The monkey doesn't jump around since little Willie died.
                    ~ Julia Moore (1847 – 1920)