Between the two stone pineapples
That flank the weathered gate;
And old, old alms-persons go by,
All rusty, bent and black,
"Good day, good day, Sir Bat-ears!"
They say and stroke his back.
And old, old alms-persons go by,
Shaking and well-nigh dead,
"Good night, good night, Sir Bat-ears!"
They say and pat his head.