And prank’st full gaily in thy winding sheet.
This ditty sang he to a doleful tune
To outer ears it sounded like a dirge,
Or wind that wails across the fields of death.
’Ware of a visitor, he ceased his strain,
But still did ply his saw industrious.
With withered hand on ear, Dame Hubbard stood;
“Vex not mine ears,” she grated, “with thine old
And creaking saw!” “I deemed,” he said, and sighed,
“Old saws might please thee, as they should the wise.”