Page 69

And what care we for war and wrack,
How kings and heroes rise and fall?
Look yonder, in his coffin black,
There lies the greatest of them all !

To pluck him down, and keep him up,
Died many million human souls.--
'Tis twelve o'clock and time to sup;
Bid Mary heap the fire with coals.

He captured many thousand guns;
He wrote "The Great" before his name;
And dying, only left his sons
The recollection of his shame.

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