A fiery lay he trolled.
“His pipe with the lip the second did grip,
A-watching the smoke that curled,
As void of care as nothing there were
Could better him in the world.
“The third in sleep lay slumbering deep,
On a branch swung his guitar;
Through its strings did stray the winds at play,
His soul was ’mid dreams afar.
“With a patch or two of rainbow hue,