Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 2.djvu/111

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The man he was a wicked man And an evil life he led;Rage made his cheek grow deadly whiteAnd his grey eyes were large and light, And in anger they grew red.
The man was bad, the mother worse, Bad fruit of a bad stem,'Twould make your hair to stand-on-endIf I should tell to you my friend The things that were told of them!
Did'st see an out-house standing by? The walls alone remain;It was a stable then, but nowIts mossy roof has fallen through All rotted by the rain.
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