Tarry now, sit down and eat;
Heat, and ice, and dust, and thorn;
Stricken, footsore, parched, forlorn,—
Juice of purple grape shall be
Youth and solace unto thee.
With sweet wire and reed we'll haunt you;
Songs of the valley shall enchant you;
Rest now, lest this night you die:
Sweet be now our lullaby:
'Grey old man, come sleep awhile,