In fearsome silence hobbled.
“She was an ancient, crooked crone, an ugly thing of skin and
bone, she passed me silent as a stone
(I thought it rather funny),
But I could hear my children cry, ‘Oh, buy us ribbons, father, buy,’
and stopping her, my blade on high,
I shouted, ‘Stand! Your money!’
Ah, that was just where I did make a most unfortunate mistake,
for she with mirth began to shake
(It made my blood run colder),