For Twilley (they called him) had ways of his own,
And except a few servants, he lived quite alone.
In the early spring season, when cider grows harder,
He would stock up his cellar and also his larder,
And then would invite the gay dancers to come
From out of the town to the old country home.
For a week, ere the night of the dance, a high tide
Of water had covered the farm to the side
Of a road running out from the house to the hill.
’Twas receding, they said—it was even and still.