He hove up the latch that barred all ingress to his shanty floor,
Hove it up, and grasped his waddy, scanned the night’s Plutonian shore,
Saw the light, and nothing more.
Then cried he, “What shicer is it pays me this mysterious visit?
Is’t a snake or is’t a wild dog? either sneak I do abhor,
Well! I don’t know about funking, but I’ll just lie down my bunk in,
And I’ll leave the door wide open, open to what may explore
The old hut, and while exploring, if the explorer don’t get sore,
Cooey on me, nevermore.”
From the darkness came a fluttering, and a sort of subdued muttering