Where ’s he that died o’ Wednesday?
  What place on earth hath he?
A tailor’s yard beneath, I wot,
  Where worms approaching be;
For the wight that died o’ Wednesday,
  Just laid the light below,
Is dead as the varlet turned to clay
  A score of years ago.

Where ’s he that died o’ Sabba’ day?
  Good Lord, I ’d not be he...