Classic Poem

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 happen 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.