LITMIR.BIZ

      I’ll tell thee everything I can;

      There’s little to relate,

      I saw an aged, aged man,

      A-sitting on a gate.

      “Who are you, aged man?” I said.

      “And how is it you live?”

      And his answer trickled through my head

      Like water through a sieve.

      He said, “I look for butterflies

      That sleep among the wheat;

      I make them into mutton-pies,

      And sell them in the street.

      I sell them unto men,” he said,

      “Who sail on stormy seas;

      And that’s the way I get my bread