Alas lad, ‘tis ere not gone, dwell not thy comrades
For weeping hands might perish
and ol’ people yearn more years
For thee time hath come, and death shall flee’
Life ere hath destroyed yer’ near navy.

Yer’ lad hath wrote a sad sonnet’
A sonnet twas’ once loved
Doth lil’ hearts hold twice thy dime’
Not pleaded, each cries
Have heard!