But lay the apron first across her face,
So that the earth won’t touch her lips or blind her eyes.
Don’t grasp the shovel too tightly—there make a heap,
Steal down each shovelful quietly—there, let it creep
Over her poor body lightly; friend, do not weep;
Tears would disturb poor Jillen in her last long sleep.
And Thade was faithful to his watch and ward,
Where’er he’d spend the day, at night he’d haste
With his few sods of turf to that churchyard,