Requiem

Under the wide and starry sky

Dig the grave and let me lie,

Glad did I live and gladly die,

And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:

Here he lies where he longed to be,

Home is the sailor, home from the sea,

and the hunter home from the hill.

Robert Louis Stevenson was Scottish, of all things. I never expected that. From now on I shall read his lit'rature with a Scottish bounce. 

I'm off for a trim. I'll show you how it goes.