There are a number of us creep
Into this world to eat and sleep,
And know no reason why they're born
But merely to consume the corn,
Devour the cattle, fowl and fish,
And leave behind an empty dish.
The crows and ravens do the same,
Unlucky birds of hateful name;
Ravens or crows might fill their place,
And swallow corn and carcases.
Then if their toombstone when they die
Ben't taught to flatter and to lie,
There's nothing better will be said
Than that "They've up and eat all their bread,
Drank up their dring and gone to bed.