Geneva
(i)
4 Mine heart is smitten and withereth like grasse, because I forgate to eate my bread.
5 For the voyce of my groning my bones doe cleaue to my skinne.
6 I am like a pelicane of the wildernesse: I am like an owle of the deserts.
7 I watch and am as a sparrowe alone vpon the house top.