That is his favourite food excepting bacon.
They say my boy was hanged; but they're mistaken.
And sometimes she will walk the cindery mile,
Singing, as she and Jimmy used to do,
Singing 'The parson's dog lep over a stile,'
Along the path where water lilies grow.
The stars are placid on the evening's blue,
Burning like eyes so calm, so unafraid,
On all that God has given and man has made.
Burning they watch, and mothlike owls come out,