Of chickens careful as the pious hen,
Nor did she overlook the tomtit or the wren;
While redbreast hopp’d before her in the hall,
As if the common mother of them all.
For my distracted mind;
What comfort can I find;
O best of grannams! thou art dead and gone,
And I am left behind to weep and moan,
To sing thy dirge in sad funereal lay,
Oh! woe is me! alack! and well-a-day!