AN EPITAPH.
Here lies a poor woman who always was tired For she lived in a house where help wasn't hired. Her last words on earth were "Dear Friends, 1 am going ■ Where there won't be no scrubbing, nor sweeping, nor sowing, But everything there is exact to my wishes. For where they don't eat there s no washing of dishes. I'll be where loud anthems is always a ringing, But having no voice I'll get clear ol the singing. Don't weep for me now, don t weep for me never, I'm going to do nothing for ever and ever.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TO19191122.2.45
Bibliographic details
Observer, Volume XL, Issue 12, 22 November 1919, Page 24
Word Count
100AN EPITAPH. Observer, Volume XL, Issue 12, 22 November 1919, Page 24
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