“And will 'a not come again? And will 'a not come again? No, no, he is dead, Go to thy death bed: He will never come again.”

“Will you no come back again? Better loved you’ll never be,And will you no come back again?”

“This will never come again”

“He was the proudest, most disagreeable man in the world, and every body hoped that he would never come there again.”

“There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray, love, remember; and there is pansies, that’s for thoughts...There’s fennel for you, and columbines; there’s rue for you, and here’s some for me; we may call it herb of grace o’ Sundays. O, you must wear your rue with a difference. There’s a daisy. I would give you some violets, but they wither’d all when my father died. They say he made a good end,— [Sings.]“For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.Thought and afflictions, passion, hell itself, She turns to favor and to prettiness. Song. And will a not come again? And will a not come again? No, no, he is dead; Go to thy deathbed; He never will come again. His beard was as white as snow, Flaxen was his poll. He is gone, he is gone, And we cast away moan. God ’a’ mercy on his soul.”

“They will come back, come back again,As long as the red earth rolls.He never wasted a leaf or a tree.Do you think he would squander souls?”