He ruled the Borough when his year came on,
And some forget, and some are glad he’s gone;
For never yet with shilling could he part,
But when it left his hand it struck his heart.
Yet, here will Love its last attentions pay,
And place memorials on these beds of clay;
Large level stones lie flat upon the grave,
And half a century’s sun and tempest brave;
But many an honest tear and heartfelt sigh
Have follow’d those who now unnoticed lie;