But thereupon he drew up a chair.
Hung his long coat-tail over the back,
Sat down by the pieces and opened his pack,
Brought forth from its depths a stout needle and
thread,
And there he sat squinting and scratching his head,
As if rather doubtfully questioning whether
'Twas possible ever to patch her together!
Meanwhile—but how can I hope to tell
Half that to my friends befell