Here comes Kate Summers who, for gold,
  Takes any man to bed:
'You knew my friend, Nell Barnes,' said she;
  'You knew Nell Barnes - she's dead.

'Nell Barnes was bad on all you men,
  Unclean, a thief as well;
Yet all my life I have not found
  A better friend than Nell.

'So I sat at her side at last,
  For hours, till she was dead;
And yet she had no sense at all
  Of any word I said.

Tor all her cry but came to this -
  "Not for the world! Take care:
Don't touch that bird of paradise,
  Perched on the bedpost there!"

'I asked her would she like some grapes,
  Some damsons ripe and sweet;
A custard made with new-laid eggs,
  Or tender fowl to eat.

'I promised I would follow her,
  To see her in her grave;
And buy a wreath with borrowed pence,
  If nothing I could save.

'Yet still her cry but came to this -
  "Not for the world! Take care:
Don't touch that bird of paradise,
  Perched on the bedpost there!" '