E’en the old green garden barrow,
On whose forefront perched a sparrow,
Bobbed along on shaky legs! [[128]]
Then there came the refuse-bin,
On whose lid of rusty tin
Danced a group of clothes-pegs!
After these the yard-broom strode,
Gruff and grim with seeming ire;
And from out his dark abode
Rolled a coil of fencing wire!