Calne
God worketh wonders now and then,
Here lies a miller, and an honest man.
Worcestershire
Worcester
Mr. John Mole.
Beneath this cold stone lies a son of the earth;
His story is short, though we date from his birth;
His mind was as gross as his body was big;
He drank like a fish, and he ate like a pig.
No cares of religion, of wedlock, or state,
Did e’er for a moment encumber John’s pate.
He sat or he walked, but his walk was but creeping,
And he rose from his bed—when quite tir’d of sleeping.
Without foe, without friend, unnotic’d he died;
Not a single soul laughed, not a single soul cried.
Like his four-footed namesake, he dearly lov’d earth.
So the sexton has cover’d his body with turf.
Mammy and I together lived
Just two years and a half;
She went first, I followed next,
The cow before the calf.