Poem by Anonymous

On a Tired Housewife

Here lies a poor woman who was always tired, 
She lived in a house where help wasn’t hired: 
Her last words on earth were: ‘Dear friends, I am going 
To where there’s no cooking, or washing, or sewing, 
For everything there is exact to my wishes, 
For where they don’t eat there’s no washing of dishes. 
I’ll be where loud anthems will always be ringing, 
But having no voice I’ll be quit of the singing. 
Don’t mourn for me now, don’t mourn for me never, 
I am going to do nothing for ever and ever.’ 

1. Gathering of Atholl
2. The Banks o’ Glaizart
3. The Aisle of Tombs
4. Sir Richard Whittington’s Advancement
5. The Cave of Pope

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