A Strange Story

ELINOR WYLIE

HEN I died in Berners Street

I remember well

That I had lights at head and feet

And a passing bell.

But when I died in Hounsditch

They would not lay me out

Because they said I was a witch;

The rats ran about.

When I died in Holborn

In an old house and tall

I know the tapestry was tom

And hanging from the wall.

When I died in Marylebone

I was saying my prayers;

There I died all alone

Up four flights of stairs.

But when I died near Lincoln's Inn

The small gold I had

Surrounded me with kith and kin;

I died stark mad.

When I died in Bloomsbury

In the bend of your arm

At the end I died merry

And comforted and warm.