Blow, ye wind, blow,
Bury in the snow
Dear Alexander Joe.
Flopping away quite dead
His spirit croaking fled.
Poor frizzle, frazzle pet,
Caught in the final net.
Shine on his face, oh moon,
Bright as the nickel spoon.
          Paying the final debt.
Why did he die so soon
          His shoes are good yet!

Blow, ye wind, blow,
There is no dumpy dough,
For Alexander Joe.
Oh woe, woe, woe,
Crow lightning crow.
Bury him in slime.
Dying in his prime
He was not worth a dime.
Dippy below the moon
Poor boy—rejected pet,
Pity he died so soon,
His shoes are good yet.

Blow, ye wind, blow,
Quickly and safely stow
Poor Alexander Joe,
Deep in his proper nest.
Now he will do his best
Atoning for his crime,
Packed in a bed of lime,
Hopping about in slime,
Singing his painful tune.
          What can I do but fret.
Pity he died so soon
          His shoes are good yet.

ENVOY

Blow, ye wind, blow,
Ho, ho, ho, ho,
Poor Alexander Joe,
Now he has faded quite
Into a sickly white,
Tho yesterday forsooth,
He was a nifty youth
With nary a black check
Crossing his graceful neck.
He ate one sour prune.
          No wonder that I fret.
Pity he died so soon
          His shoes are good yet.

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