Who most kindly supports us, who gave our race birth,
And will give, when breath fails, and we cannot replace it,
Furnished lodgings, a stone, and the motto, “Hic jacet.”)
“Hic” did “jacet” Geraldus, when rashly he tried,
Foot in stirrup, to climb to his saddle and ride;
For the saddle turned round,
And he came to the ground,
With a hollow and pectoral “woughf” kind of sound.
(Printing cannot express it,
But ’twill help you to guess it,