University of Virginia Library


43

An EPITAPH.

Here lies the dust of John Bell's Mither,
Against her will, death's brought her hither;
Clapt in this hole, hard by his dady,
Death snatch't her up, or she was ready;
Lang might she liv'd wer't not her wame,
But wha can live beyond their time?

44

There's none laments her but the Suter,
So here she lyes looking about her;
Looking about her! how can that be?
Yes, she sees her state, better than we.