And will 'a not come again?
And will 'a not come again?
No, no, he is dead,
Go to thy death bed:
He will never come again.

He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone;
At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.

...and there you have it, another body on the floor surrounded by things that don't mean much to anyone except to the one who can't take any of them along.

Done to death by slanderous tongues

And make death proud to take us.

Nothing in his life became him like the leaving it.