He’s only a pauper, whom nobody owns!”
Oh, where are the mourners? alas! there are none;
He has left not a gap in the world now he’s gone,
Not a tear in the eye of child, woman, or man—
To the grave with his carcase as fast as you can.
“Rattle his bones over the stones;
He’s only a pauper, whom nobody owns!”
What a jolting and creaking, and splashing and din;
The whip how it cracks! and the wheels how they spin!
How the dirt, right and left, o’er the hedges is hurled!