He beamed wherever he went;
How cheerfully he would tar his boat!
How gaily would pitch his tent!
After ryper or deer he would walk all day,
From the top of a hill to the bottom;
And we feel it unpleasantly sad to say
That the dear old Reaper’s got him.
But we think it is time that this verse were done,
Which to mournfully write we’ve tried
In memory o’ our darlin’ one,