Lament

Listen, children,

Your father is dead.

From his old coats

I'll make you little jackets;

I'll make you little trousers

From his old pants.

There'll be in his pockets

Things he used to put there:

Keys and pennies

Covered with tobacco.

Dan shall have the pennies

To save in his bank;

Anne shall have the keys

To make a pretty noise with.

Life must go on

And the dead be forgotten;

Life must go on

Though good men die.

Anne, eat your breakfast;

Dan, take your medicine.

Life must go on;

I forget just why.