The mossy marbles restOn the lips that he has prestIn their bloom,And the names he loved to hearHave been carved for many a yearOn the tomb.My grandmamma has saidPoor old lady, she is deadLong agoThat he had a Roman wow gold nose,And his cheek was like a wow gold roseIn the snow;But now his nose is thin,And it rests upon his wow gold chinLike a staff,And a crook is in his back,And a melancholy wow gold *****In his laugh.I know it is a sinFor me to sit and grinAt him here;But the old three-cornered hat,And the breeches, buy wow gold and all that,Are so queer!