And gossips come to ask for you;
And greedy cunning fox that stole
While back to wall you lean so sad,
You used to smile and stroke my head,
Your stiffened legs begin to fail:
When through the house you change your stand,
And good men kneel and say their prayers,
The housewives round their potions brew,
We'll doff our shoes and softly tread;
Rouse up and be our Dad again.
You take me seldom on your knee,
Which slyly to the hen-roost led,--
Supports your body bending low,
To sit beside you, Dad.
When you are quiet and laid in bed,
Grand-dad , they say you're old and frail,
And for your weal each neighbour cares;
When dinner's set I'll with you bide,
But yet although his strength be fled,
And when you wake we'll still be near,
You will not die and leave us then?
About a partlet and her brood,
I have a tale both long and good,
I'm vex'd to see you, Dad.
Yet ne'ertheless I am right glad,
And tell me how good children did;
Down on your bosom sinks your head:--
Your heavy eyes begin to wink;--
You do not hear me, Dad.
How lank and thin your beard hangs down!
With glittering swords,--you nod,--I think
And every body looks so sad,
I love my own old Dad.
When you are ailing, Dad.
You love a story, Dad?
And when the weary fire burns blue,
I'll sit and talk with you.
Your brow is crossed with many streaks;
And aye be serving by your side;
I'll lead you kindly by the hand:
Your staff, no more my pony now,
How wan and hollow are your cheeks,
And then I have a wondrous tale
Of men all clad in coats of mail,
But now, I wot not how it be,
Scant are the white hairs on your crown:
To fill old Dad his cheer.
By dead of midnight through a hole,