I laid him down in the cold, cold earth,
And fashioned his humble grave.
Far, far from his friends and the place of his birth.
For, far o’er the distant wave.
A few short texts o’er the grave I said
A few brief words of anguish
Words such as came when all I hope is fled.
Had the heart’s affections languish.
Slowly-alone-o’er the mountains steep
My wear way I hurried
But left my affections, warm and deep,
In the grave where my friend is buried.
by Robert N. Cust