The man in possession ate, drank of her best,
In well-aired holland sheets he wound him;
And he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his pipe alight—confound him!
Few and short were the prayers he said,
And he spoke not a word of sorrow;
And he steadfastly smoked till Jane wished him dead,
As she bitterly thought of the morrow.
He chaffed the girl thus: "When you makes my bed,
And smoothes down my lonely pillow,