Off he sets: with the first long stride
He is halfway over the mountain side:
With his second stride he has crossed the barrow,
And he has you fast, has Johnnie Kigarrow!"
Half I laughed and half I feared;
I clutched and tugged at the strong man's beard,
And bragged as brave as a boy could be--
"So? but, you see, he didn't catch me!"
Fear caught hold of me: what had I done?
High as the roof rose the farmer's son:
How the sight of him froze my marrow!
"I," he cried, "am Johnnie Kigarrow!"
Well, you wonder, what was the end?
Never forget;--he had called me "friend"!
Mighty of limb, and hard, and blown;
Quickly he laughed and set me down.
"Heh!" said, he, "but the squeak was narrow,
Not to be caught by Johnnie Kigarrow!"
Now, I hear, after years gone by,
Nobody knows how he came to die.
He strode out one night of storm:
"Get you to bed, and keep you warm!"
Out into darkness so went he:
Nobody knows where his bones may be.
Only I think--if his tongue let go
Truth that once,--how perhaps _I_ know.
Twloch river, and Twloch barrow,
Do you cover my Johnnie Kigarrow?
LETTER XLIV.
Dearest: I have been doing something so wise and foolish: mentally wise,
I mean, and physically foolish. Do you guess?--Disobeying your parting
injunction, and sitting up to see eclipses.
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