THE SEXTON.

Otago Witness, Issue 2252, 29 April 1897, Page 41

THE SEXTON.

My hair it is grey and my back it is round, My hands tluy are horny with delving the ground. In tho self-same day I till and I rap. For Death has all seasons his garners to heap. I dig and I delve, and unearth the dry bones Of the dead long gone as bare us the stones— At thp feet of the sexton what treasures tlaey fling, A tress of fair hair or a gold wedding ring. Three feet by one, or its six feet b}' two, A grave for your sweetheart, or else one for you, And I laugb. ho ! ho ! no time for corrow — A child to-day, and a man to-morrow ' All ready, all ready, my tackle and planks ; Toll, toll the gay hell, acd marshal your ranks, To the bi\nk of my grave I would ye might run ; Now close all around your journey is done. Our parson he reads with a sad, rueful face, While with toDgue in my cheek I slily grimace ; A spadeful of earth I rattle it iv, While the clerk drawls out a loud " Amen." When the mourners are gone, and, alone with the dead, I am left with my shovel to make the sweet bed. I merrily, merrily dance on the coffin While the devils that haunt me are laughing and scoffing. I dig and I delve so merry am I, As with axe and with spade my task I lily; I lauph and I sing, no time for sorrow, A child to-day and a man to-morrow. Apiil 1597 —H. J. B.

— You must be a very clever musician to be able to " blow your own trumpet" so as to make the notes agreeable for others to heap.