Of Death, all his measurements and pleasurements were odd;
And odd his line will be,
As you’re registered to see,
Till his walnut case is underneath the gravel and the sod.”
It was bitter winter weather
When we all four got together
At the depôt with the coffin in an extra packin’ box;
And a friend with good intent,
A cask of whisky sent,
Just to keep our boats from wrackin’, as they say, upon the rocks.