Page:Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.djvu/148



Despised love struck not with woe
 * That head of curly knots,

Nor stomach troubles laid him low,
 * Young Stephen Dowling Bots.

O no. Then list with tearful eye,
 * Whilst I his fate do tell.

His soul did from this cold world fly,
 * By falling down a well.

They got him out and emptied him;
 * Alas it was too late;

His spirit was gone for to sport aloft
 * In the realms of the good and great.