By M-n-ym-nt’s night-van.
I wish you’d go to Mr. M.
And save me such a ride;
“I don’t half like the outside place,
They’ve took for my inside.”
“The cock it crows—I must be gone!
My William we must part!
But I’ll be yours in death—altho’
Sweet N-rg-te has my heart.”
“Don’t go to weep upon my grave,