  A BALD-HEAD is sick, And the second's afraid, The third calls a doctor, The fourth gives him aid. By the fifth he is borne, By the sixth he is buried, The seventh comes crying Because he is worried. When asked by an eighth, Why it was that he cried, He said, "In my home, A dear bald-head has died." "Come, bury him quickly, I fear a great hoard Of the seeds of his spirit Will spring from his gourd." |
|
