How Moll would stand beside the bed of death
And bathe the pallid brow and catch the breath,
The dying breath, and soothe the last sad moan,
Breathed for the dear ones he should leave alone.
That many a smile relieved the falling tear,
As ’midst a childish group Moll would appear,
While her capacious pocket would bring forth
Rich stores of apples red to raise their mirth.
Long years have rolled away, yet Molly’s fame
Still lingers round the spot that bears her name.