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There were no loved one to weep over herNot a tear did I see shedFor the lady they pulled from that muddy old riverNo one ever came to claim their deadShe lay on the cold marble slab at the marqueThousands viewed her but none knew her nameThey will lay her to rest in Potter's Field tomorrowShe will lay there unloved and unclaimedInside the purse that she clutched in her handA note written, "Blame no one but me."As I looked in her faced I couldn't help but thinkWhat a poor wicked place this world can be From Letras Mania