Classic Poem

To clog-wearing Madge on her death-bed said Bet,
“In heav'n, tell my Dick, that I never could get
The things which he left me; they all went to Sue,
Except the crack'd pan, claim'd by Nance as her due.”

“Do you think,” answer'd Madge, “I shall find nought to do
But clomp over heav'n, seeking Dick, to please you?
If I see him near t'door, I may tell him your mind,
But to clomp in my clogs there, I is not inclin'd.”

“You need not clomp far,” Bet replied, “for you know
He never went no where as other folks go;
He's a timidy man! and you'll find him, I'm sure,
If not hid behind it, not far from the door.”