Epitaph to a late member of the (Glee) Club.

Lyrics: Thomas Russell

To a friend sincere, to a comrade gay,
Who brought care on himself to drive our cares away;
Who lov'd still to laugh, yet ne'er wish'd to offend
And, a friend to mankind, found mankind not a friend.
To a spirit so rare let us ever be just,
Nor forget him, poor fellow, tho' laid in the dust.
Then haste with your myrtles to hang on his shrine;
With odours enrich it, bedew it with wine.
Ne'er cease on his turf early roses to bloom,
And green be the laurel that waves o'er his tomb