EPITAPH FOR THE WORN OUT
Here lies a woman who was always tired;
She lived in a house where help was not hired.
Her last words on earth were:
Dear friends I am going
Where washing ain’t done, nor sweeping, nor sewing;
But 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 clear of the singing.
Don’t mourn for me now, don’t mourn for me never –
I’m going to do nothing for ever and ever. Anonymous
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