LIKE A STONE IN THE STREET
I'm left all alone like a stone at the side of the street,
With no kind “good day” on the way from the many I meet.
Still with looks cold and high they go by, not one brow now unbends,
None holds out his hand of the band of my fair-weather friends.
They helped me to spend to its end all my fine shining store,
They drank to my health and my wealth until both were no more.
And now they are off with a scoff as they leave me behind,
“When you've ate the rich fruit, under foot with the bare, bitter rind.”
There's rest deep and still on yon hill by our old church's side,
Where I laid you long ago, to my woe, my young one year's bride.
Then, ochone! for relief from my grief into madness I flew.
Would to God ere that day in the clay I'd been covered with you!
