“And beat John Hawkins, on the green.
It’s long since such a lad was seen.”
A fourth one laughed: “’Twould seem the town
He loved so well has let him down.
“A poor thin corpse ’tis, to be sure,
That he’s brought home to make manure.”
They swathed his body, tall and slim,
Then screwed the oak lid down on him.
They put him in his deep-dug hole,
And bawled responses for his soul.