True that your slumber is deep, so deep,
But deeper by far is my pain.
Cover him over with daisies white,
And eke with the poppies red,
Sit with me here by his couch to-night,
For the First-Born, Love, is dead.
BEIN' BACK HOME
Home agin, an' home to stay—
Yes, it's nice to be away.
Plenty things to do an' see,