Dead as Moses.
"Poor old Bob!" Dad said.

"Poor-old-fellow!" Joe asked what could have killed him?
"Poor-old-Bob!" Dave brought the dray, and we took him to the house--or what remained of it.
Dad could n't make out the cause of death--perhaps it was lightning.
He held a POST-MORTEM, and, after thinking hard for a long while, told Mother he was certain, anyway, that old Bob would never get up again.
It was a change to have a dead man about the place, and we were very pleased to be first to tell anyone who did n't know the news about old Bob.
We planted him on his own selection beneath a gum-tree, where for years and years a family of jackasses nightly roosted, Dad remarking: "As there MIGHT be a chance of his hearin', it'll be company for the poor old cove.".