And the cellar was his refuge.
Here he lived, his care dividing
'Twixt himself and the big wine-tun;
And he loved it--truer friendship
Never has the world yet witnessed;
'Twas as if it were his bride.
With a broom he swept it shining,
Chased away the ugly spiders,
And whenever came a feast-day,
Hung it o'er with wreaths of ivy;