Anon he gave his spade a swing Aloft, and kept it brandishing, Ready for what mishaps might spring From this conjunction; Funking indeed was quite a thing Beside his function. “Hollo!” cried Death, “d’ye wish your sands Run out? the stoutest never stands A chance with me,--to my commands The strongest truckles; But I’m your friend--so let’s shake hands, I should say--knuckles.” Jack, glad to see th’ old sprite so sprightly And meaning nothing but uprightly, Shook hands at once, and, bowing slightly, His mull did proffer: But Death, who had no nose, politely Declin’d the offer. Then sitting down upon a bank, Leg over leg, shank over shank, Like friends for conversation frank, That had no check on: Quoth Jack unto the Lean and Lank, “You’re Death, I reckon.” The Jaw-bone grinn’d:--“I am that same, You’ve hit exactly on my name; In truth it has some little fame Where burial sod is.” Quoth Jack (and wink’d), “of course ye came Here after bodies.” Death grinn’d again and shook his head:-- “I’ve little business with the dead; When they are fairly sent to bed I’ve done my turn: Whether or not the worms are fed Is your concern. “My errand here, in meeting you, Is nothing but a ‘how-d’ye-do;’ I’ve done what jobs I had--a few Along this way; If I can serve a crony too, I beg you’ll say.” Quoth Jack, “Your Honour’s very kind: And now I call the thing to mind, This parish very strict I find; But in the next ‘un There lives a very well-inclined Old sort of sexton.” Death took the hint, and gave a wink As well as eyelet holes can blink; Then stretching out his arm to link The other’s arm,-- “Suppose,” says he, “we have a drink Of something warm.” Jack nothing loth, with friendly ease Spoke up at once:--“Why, what ye please, Hard by there is the Cheshire Cheese, A famous tap.” But this suggestion seem’d to tease The bony chap. “No, no--your mortal drinks are heady, And only make my hand unsteady; I do not even care for Deady, And loathe your rum; But I’ve some glorious brewage ready, My drink is--Mum!” And off they set, each right content-- Who knows the dreary way they went? But Jack felt rather faint and spent, And out of breath; At last he saw, quite evident, The Door of Death.