Two sleeps had he been dead;
Greatly did I weep, and much I grieved,
In his blanket folding him,
We scrape away the earth.
We scrape the earth into the grave,
We scrape the earth into the grave,
A little wood we place in it, much earth we heap upon it,
Much earth we throw upon it, no dogs can dig there.
The sun had just inclined to the westward,
As we laid him in the ground.—Grey.