A wood-cutter at Ockham, Surrey:
The Lord saw good; I was lopping off wood,
And down fell from the tree;
I met with a check, and I broke my neck,
And so Death lopped off me.
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A parish clerk:
Here lies within this tomb, so calm,
Old Giles; pray sound his knell;
Who thought no song was like a psalm,
No music like a knell.
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On a parish clerk who loved backgammon, and was succeeded in office by a Mr. Trice:
By the chance of the die,
On his back here doth lie
Our most audible clerk, Master Hammond;
Tho' he bore many men
Till threescore and ten,
Yet, at length he by death is backgammoned.
But hark! neighbors, hark!
Here again comes the clerk;
By a hit very lucky and nice,
With death we're now even
He just stepped to heaven,
And is with us again in a Trice.
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