Poor Jack the children’s friend has died,
They’ve buried him beneath a tree,
And father wrote his name upon
A wooden cross which sits below the leaves.
Poor Jack was just a small brown dog,
The skin showed through his ageing coat,
His tail was thin, his eyes grew bleak,
Poor Jack grew old, his friends did not.
Poor Jack the children’s friend has died,
They made his grave a pilgrim’s post.
In vigil they stood over him,
Until their childhood had been lost.