The Question

I wonder if the old cow died or not.
   Gey bad she was the night I left, and sick.
Dick reckoned she would mend. He knows a lot--
   At least he fancies so himself, does Dick.

Dick knows a lot. But maybe I did wrong
   To leave the cow to him, and come away.
Over and over like a silly song
   These words keep bumming in my head all day.

And all I think of, as I face the foe
   And take my lucky chance of being shot,
Is this--that if I'm hit, I'll never know
   Till Doomsday if the old cow died or not.

- Wilfrid Wilson Gibson