Surrounded by a hireling crowd,
While I was slumb’ring here!
From strangers I learn thy lamented death,
To strangers thou yieldedst thy latest breath,
And strangers watched thy bier!
If repentance yet serves, behold me now
In grief and affliction—mol row! mol row!”
Thus mourned Tom his sire, when nearer and nigher
A tramp on the stairs resounded,
And into the room through the deep’ning gloom