We hear the cry of a single tree
That breaks her heart in the cold--
That breaks her heart in the cold, good sirs,
And rendeth by the board;
Which well must be as ye can see--
And who shall judge the Lord?

Her wood is crazed and little worth
Excepting as to burn,
That we may warm and make our mirth
Until the Spring return--
Until the Spring return, good sirs.
When people walk abroad;
Which well must be as ye can see--
And who shall judge the Lord?

God bless the master of this house.
And all who sleep therein!
And guard the fens from pirate folk.
And keep us all from sin,
To walk in honesty, good sirs,
Of thought and deed and word!
Which shall befriend our latter end--
And who shall judge the Lord?




'MY NEW-CUT ASHLAR'