Enough the most desperate courage to tame;
And demon’s torment the Baron’s soul,
And sing out exultingly, “Old King Coal;”
Which proves that the imps and their souls and so forth,
Are as black as the coals that you buy in the north.
And legends assert, since this terrible stroke,
That Bracey still lives like a pig in a poke;
And my grandmother like to the village chimes,
Has rung out the subject a hundred times;
I wist not what the truth may be,