Ah! Give him a tomb, for a tomb is his due,
A shilling, great man, is a trifle to You:
If you give him a tomb, that his name may survive,
May Fortune attend you, and help you to thrive:
May you always have something to praise and approve,
And the pleasure to dream of the girl that you love.
Prepar'd for the worst, but enjoying the best,
With a girl and a bottle he feather'd his nest:
Half sick of the world, in the wane of his life,
To hasten his exit, he took him a wife,
But, finding his fair one a damnable elf,
He grounded his arms — and took leave of himself.