The bedpost

Sleepy Betsy from her pillow

Sees the post and ball

Of her sister's wooden bedstead

Shadowed on the wall.

Now this grave young warrior standing

With uncovered head

Tells her stories of old battle

As she lies in bed:

How the Emperor and the Farmer

Fighting knee to knee,

Broke their swords but whirled their scabbards

Till they gained the sea.

How the ruler of that shore

Foully broke his oath,

Gave them beds in his sea cave,

Then stabbed them both.

How the daughters of the Emperor,

Diving boldly through,

Caught and killed their father's murderer,

Old Cro-bar-cru.

How the Farmer's sturdy sons

Fought the Giant Gog,

Threw him into Stony Cataract

In the land of Og.

Will and Abel were their names,

Though they went by others:

He could tell ten thousand stories

Of these lusty brothers.

How the Emperor's elder daughter

Fell in love with Will

And went with him to the Court of Venus

Over Hoo Hill;

How Gog's wife encountered Abel

Whom she hated most,

Stole away his arms and helmet,

Turned him to a post.

As a post he shall stay rooted

For yet many years,

Until a maiden shall release him

With pitying tears.

But Betsy likes the bloodier stories,

Clang and clash of fight,

And Abel wanes with the spent candle --

"Sweetheart, good-night!"