The wife of my bosom is fled
The fondest of mothers is gone
In vain we mourn over the dead
Alass she will never return
She has gone from a wearisome state
Where sicknness and sorrows oppress'd
She has left us to mourn our sad fate
And with Jesus her soul is at rest
A post-1800 gravestone included for the epitaph. The carved image is unknown.
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