Floyd has died and few have sobbed,
Since, had he lived, all had been robbed:
He's paid Dame Nature's debt, 'tis said
The only one he ever paid.
Some doubt that he resigned his breath,
But vow he has cheated even death.
If he is buried, oh! then, ye dead, beware,
Look to your swaddlings, of your shrouds take care,
Lest Floyd should to your coffins make his way,
And steal the linen from your mouldering clay.
This text is part of:
Table of Contents:
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.
An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.