I fed her with a teaspoon in her sickness,
Good milk and nutmeg, and good porridge,
And so I did Poor Sissy.
I made fire days and nights,
To keep Poor Beauty Linna warm,
The day before Poor little dear was taken away,
She opened her eyes and looked me up into my face,
For the last time, O heart melting,
Poor little Beauty Linna,
She could not have the wind to blow on her,