When Ma bimeby upon ’em slips,
Huldy sot pale as ashes,
All kin’ o’ smily roun’ the lips
An’ teary roun’ the lashes.
For she was jes’ the quiet kind
Whose naturs never vary,
Like streams that keep a summer mind
Snowhid in Jenooary.
The blood clost roun’ her heart felt glued
Too tight for all expressin’,