I seldom am a welcome guest;
But don’t be captious, friend, at least:
I little thought you’d still be able
To stump about your farm and stable;
Your years have run to a great length,
I wish you joy tho’ of your strength.”
“Hold,” says the farmer, “not so fast,
I have been lame these four years past.”
“And no great wonder,” Death replies,
“However you still keep your eyes,