"Mine is the fame most blazon'd of all; Mine is the goodliest trade; Never was banner so wide as the pall, Nor sceptre so fear'd as the spade."
This is the lay of the sexton grey; King of the churchyard he— While the mournful knell of the tolling hell, Chimes in with his burden of glee.
He dons a doublet of sober brown, And a hat of slouching felt; The mattock is over his shoulder thrown, The heavy keys clank at his belt.
The dark, damp vault now echoes his tread, While his song rings merrily out; With a cobweb canopy over his head, And coffins falling about.
His foot may crush the full-fed worms, His hand may grasp a shroud; His gaze may rest on skeleton forms, Yet his tones are light and loud.
He digs the grave, and his chant will break, As he gains a fathom deep— "Whoever lies in the bed I make, I warrant will soundly sleep."
He piles the sod, he raises the stone, He clips the cypress-tree; But whate'er his task, 'tis plied alone; No fellowship holds he.
For the sexton grey is a searing loon; His name is link'd with death: The children at play, should he cross their way, Will pause, with fluttering breath.
They herd together, a frighten'd host, And whisper with lips all white,— "See, see, 'tis he that sends the ghost, To walk the world at night!"
The old men mark him, with fear in their eye, At his labour 'mid skulls and dust; They hear him chant: "The young may die, But we know the aged must."
The rich will frown, as his ditty goes on— "Though broad your lands may be; Six narrow feet to the beggar I mete, And the same shall serve for ye."
The car of the strong will turn from his song, And Beauty's cheek will pale; "Out, out," cry they, "what creature would stay To list thy croaking tale!"
Oh! the sexton grey is a mortal of dread; None like to see him come near; The orphan thinks on a father dead, The widow wipes a tear.
All shudder to hear his bright axe chink, Upturning the hollow bone; No mate will share his toil or his fare, He works, he carouses alone.
By night, or by day, this, this, is the lay; "Mine is the goodliest trade; Never was banner so wide as the pall, Nor sceptre so fear'd as the spade."
