Full to the brim
With gold!
I caught him at work one day, myself,
In the castle-ditch, where Foxglove grows,—
A wrinkled, wizened, and bearded Elf,
Spectacles stuck on his pointed nose,
Silver buckles to his hose,
Leather apron—shoe in his lap—
Fairy Shoemaker (singing underground)
Rip-rap, tip-tap,