"Billy, sir, poor Billy--Sir William, perhaps--but, mum for that;
the moon knows, but cannot tell, then why should I?"
"And what do you want--here?"
"To sing, sir, for you and the lady, if you will. I sing for high
folk and low folk. I have many songs, old and new, grave and gay,
but folk generally ask for my Oyster Song. I sing for rich and poor,
for the sad and for the merry. I sing at country fairs sometimes,
and sometimes to trees in lonely places--trees are excellent
listeners always. But to-night I sing for--Them."
"And who are they?"
"The Wise Ones, who, being dead, know all things, and live on for
ever. Ah, but they're kind to poor Billy, and though they have no
buttons to give him, yet they tell him things sometimes. Aha! such
things!--things to marvel at! So I sing for them always when the moon
is full, but, most of all, I sing for Her."
"Who is she?"
"One who died, many years ago. Folk told her I was dead, killed at
sea, and her heart broke--hearts will break--sometimes. So when she
died, I put off the shoes from my feet, and shall go barefoot to my
grave. Folk tell me that poor Billy's mad--well, perhaps he is--but
he sees and hears more than folk think; the Wise Ones tell me things.
Pages:
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183