The boarder in the bar-room rose,
   A pale gaunt man who lodged with Hann,
“I bear,” he said, “the worst of woes,
And suffer torments no one knows,
   For do my best I never can
   Have sleep like any other man.

“I have insomnia,” said he. “At times it drives me mad outright. Whate’er I do, where’er I be, Its just the same – so sleep for me. You won’t believe for three years quite I haven’t slept two hours a night.”
Boss-cocky Billson softly swore, And turning from his chestnut cob. “What’s that?” he questioned from the door. “You say that you don’t sleep no more Than two hours? I pay thirty bob. Now, mister, do you want a job?”

The Bulletin, 6 September 1917, p24

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