Classic Poem

Nannie's going down the dale —
Peter fleered as I went by.
Meaning soon I'd come to lie
In the graveyard by the Swale.

Hearing him I just stopped dead,
Turned and eyed him up and down
From the toe-cap to the crown,
But no single word I said.

Peter's years were just threescore
Short of mine — a likely lad:
Yet, while I've the health I had,
Peter Perkins is no more.

To a scrag of skin and bone
Dwining like a body curst,
Peter reached the dale-foot first,
Overtaking the old crone.