“Curse that voracious beast!” she cried,
“Here Susan, bring a cord—
I’ll hang the vicious, ugly creature—
The veriest plague e’er form’d by nature!”
And Mistress Gurton kept her word—
And Poor Grimalkin—Died!
Thus, often, we with anguish sore
The dead, in clam’rous grief deplore;
Who, were they once alive again
Would meet the sting of cold disdain!