Hod Putt

 Here I lie close to the grave 
Of Old Bill Piersol, 
Who grew rich trading with the indians, and who 
Afterwards took the bankrupt law 
And emergeed from it richer than ever. 
Myself grown tired of toil and poverty 
And beholding how Old Bill and others grew in wealth, 
Robbed a traveler one night near Proctor's Grove, 
Killing him unwittingly while doing so, 
For the which I was tried and hanged. 
That was my way of going into bankruptcy. 
Now we who took the bankrupt law in our respective ways 
Sleep peacefully side by side.

Form: Epitaph

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