A frame of sticks just strong enough
To bear the living sward;
Which he so laid o’er as it was before,
Not a trace of the hole appear’d.
Then pickaxe, spade, and hatchet too
Upon the ground he cast:
And he took his horn to salute the morn
And blew a jolly blast.
Now how he danced, and how he pranced,
To think what he had done!