"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— A trifle, if you please.'
"But I was thinking of a plan To dye one's whiskers green, And always use so large a fan That they could not be seen. So, having no reply to give To what the old man said, I cried, 'Come, tell me how you live!' And thumped him on the head.
"His accents mild took up the tale; He said, 'I go my ways, And when I find a mountain-rill, I set it in a blaze; And thence they make a stuff they call Rowland's Macassar-Oil— Yet two pence-halfpenny is all They give me for my toil.'
"But I was thinking of a way
To feed one's self on batter,
Page:Through the looking-glass and what Alice found there (IA throughlookinggl00carr4).pdf/265
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