When Eagle Davis died,
I was sittin’ by his side,
’Twas in Boston, Massachusetts; and he said to me, “Old boy!
This climate—as you see—
Isn’t quite the size for me;
Dead or livin’, take me back if you can to Ellanoy!”
So I took him by the hand,
But he’d just run out his sand,
And his breath was gone for ever—before a word would come;
Then I and other three