The old squire knew he would die.
Heaving a sigh
He beckoned to his wife.
“Come near,
My dear.
The strife
Of life
Will soon be done.
I hear yonder church clock,
Chime.
O how time does run
Away.
Soon death will on this great door knock
And take my soul away.
Pray
One thing I would know
Before I go.
Was it you,
My wife most true
Or my mistress with her ribbons so gay,
Who put poison in my cup today?!”