But for Jack Roy — better known as Rodney Dangerfield，
"How could you say my face was fair, And yet that face forsake? How could you win my virgin heart, Yet leave that heart to break?
"Why did you say my lip was sweet, And made the scarlet pale? And why did I, young witless maid! Believe the flattering tale?
"That face, alas! no more is fair; Those lips no longer red: Dark are my eyes, now closed in death, And every charm is fled.
"The hungry worm my sister is; This winding sheet I wear: And cold and weary lasts our night, Till that last morn appear.
"But hark! the cock has warned me hence; A long and late adieu! Come, see, false man, how low she lies, Who died for love of you."
The lark sung loud; the morning smiled, With beams of rosy red: Pale William quaked in every limb, And raving left his bed.
He hied him to the fatal place Where Margaret's body lay: And stretched him on the grass-green turf That wrapped her breathless clay.
And thrice he called on Margaret's name, And thrice he wept full sore: Then laid his cheek to her cold grave, And word spoke never more.
article title：But for Jack Roy — better known as Rodney Dangerfield
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