Classic Poem

Under this stone lie Dicky and Dolly,
Doll dying first, Dick grew melancholy,
For Dick without Doll thought living a folly.

Dick lost in Doll a wife tender and dear,
But Dick lost by Doll, twelve hundred a year,
A loss that Dick thought, no mortal could bear.

Dick sighed for his Doll and his mournful arms crossed,
Thought much of his Doll, and the jointure he lost;
The first vexed him much, but the other vexed most.

Thus loaded with grief, Dick sighed and he cried,
To live without both full three days he tried:
And liked neither loss, and so quietly died.

One bed while alive held both Doll and Dick,
One coach oft carried them when they were quick,
One grave now contains them both haec et hic.

Dick left a pattern few will copy after,
Then, reader, pray shed some tears of salt water,
For so sad a tale is no subject of laughter.

Meath smiles for the jointure, though gotten so late;
The son laughs that got the hard-gotten estate,
And Cuffe grins for getting the Alicant plate.

Here quiet they lie, in hopes to rise one day,
Both solemnly put, in this hole on a Sunday,
And here rest, sic transit gloria mundi