"To vind, lik' thee, a better pleäce,
"Where I, oonce mwore, mid zee thy feäce;
"An' bring thy children up, to know
"His word, that they mid come an' show
"Thy soul how much I loved thee."
"Where's father, then," I zaid, "my chile?"
"Dead, too," she answered wi' a smile;
"An' I an' brother Jem do bide
"At Betty White's, o'tother zide
"O' road." "Mid He, my chile," I cried,