And Willy, my eldest born, is gone you say, little Ann?
Ruddy and white and strong on his legs, he looks like a man.
“Here’s a leg for a babe of a week!” says doctor; and he would be bound
There was not his like that year in twenty parishes round.
Strong of his hands, and strong on his legs, but still of his tongue!
I ought to have gone before him; I wonder he went so young.
I cannot cry for him, Annie; I have not long to stay;
Perhaps I shall see him the sooner, for he lived far away.
Why do you look at me, Annie? you think I am hard and cold;
But all my children have gone before me, I am so old: