In the Cemetery
“You see those mothers squabbling there?”Remarks the man of the cemetery.One says in tears, ‘’Tis mine lies here!’Another, ‘Nay, mine, you Pharisee!’Another, ‘How dare you move my flowersAnd put your own on this grave of ours!’But all their children were laid thereinAt different times, like sprats in a tin.
“And then the main drain had to cross,And we moved the lot some nights ago,And packed them away in the general fossWith hundreds more. But their folks don’t know,And as well cry over a new-laid drainAs anything else, to ease your pain!”
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