DEAD AND GONE



TWOT well o' his going
   I ro think in flowers fair;-
His a right kind heart, my dear,
  To give the grass such hair.

             II.
I wot well o' his lying
  Such nights out in the cold,-
To list the cricket's crick, my sweet,
  TG see the glow-worm's gold.

            III.
An mine eyes be laughterful,
  Well may they laugh, I trow,-
Since two dead eyes a yesternight
  Gazed in them sad enow.

            IV.
An my heart make moan and ache,
  Wall may it dree, I'm sure;-
He is dead and gone, my love,
And it is beggar poor.