"But well I know, fair Nymph, the very cause why thus you fly.
Because upon my front, one only brow, with bristles strong
From one ear to the other ear is stretchèd all along:
'Neath which, one eye; and on my lips, a hugy nose, there stands.
Yet I, this such a one, a thousand sheep feed on these lands;
And pleasant milk I drink, which from the strouting bags is presst.
Nor want I cheese in summer, nor in autumn of the best,
Nor yet in winter time. My cheese racks ever laden are;
And better can I pipe than any Cyclops may compare.
O apple sweet! of thee, and of myself I use to sing,