The Slapstick Tragedy
Take good look at me, all thee
No one can revile at me
For I was a good old spouse
And good host of my old house
But I’ve had some sorrow too
As a small orphan I grew
Then I sorrowed once again
When my boy by death was slain
Then of all the tears I shed
All the sickness in me spread
Long I suffered in my bed
Till to grave they brought me dead
