Leaning upon her elbows, the good-wife
At eventide conversed with many a friend
Of all the little chances of their life;
Small ripples in a stream which ran full slow
In the North End of Boston, long ago.
And ’mid these houses was a Hostelrie
Frequented by the people of the sea,
Known as the Boy and Barrel, from its sign:
A jolly urchin on a cask of wine
Bearing the words which puzzled every eye—