IN ages long gone by,
          In a village very nigh,
The banks of the beautiful Rhine,
          I have often heard said,
          Stood a statue of lead;
Its mystery none could define.

          On one hand all rusty,
          Disfigured and musty,
Some letters strange were found.
          Which people from the
          Far and near oft did see,
But never could expound.

          There was one man, however,
          In the town who never
Had yet tried to find them out.
          One summer night
          (Moon shining bright)
He solved them without a doubt.

          He quickly discerned
          One finger was turned
Toward the distant rocks;
          He searched around,
          And soon he found
Parchment in a box.

          On the parchment he read
          Faded letters that said,
Get a spade and take a hold;
          Dig 'neath the box,
          You'll soon see rocks
When under them you'll find gold.

          Then home the man went
          To a friend that lent
Him an old spade with rust covered.
          Which he took and began
          To dig hard like a man,
Beneath the box he'd discovered.

          And decidedly soon,
          By the light of the moon,
He beheld an iron door;
          Which he opened and found,
          Leading down under ground,
Thirteen stone steps drenched in gore.

          He went down the stair
          To see what was there,
And found a large hall lighted bright;
          Which as he rambled through,
          He suddenly came to
A horrible, sickening sight.

          At a table there sat,
          Eaten half by a rat,
A ghastly corpse all bloody red.
          It was tattered and torn,
          And it looked all forlorn;
A diamond gleamed bright on its head.

          The table was spread,
          With black mouldy bread;
Of gold the dishes were made,
          Heaped up with fruits,
          Savory as old boots,
All very carefully laid.

          In one corner there stood,
          A coffin of rosewood,
On which there were letters that read:
          "Take any dish
          That you may wish,
But touch not the gem on the head."

          Now instead of obeying,
          Refraining from laying
His hands on the gem—lack a day!
          He took it—the thief!
          But found to his grief,
'Tis better by far to obey.

          The lamps that shone bright
          Ceased to give their light—
All was as dark as hell.
          The man in a fright,
          And an awful plight,
Began to scream and yell.

          And pretty quick
          He felt a kick,
And jumping up with a cry,
          Looking around—
          My stars, he found
The Devil standing close by.

          He'd a swallow-tailed coat,
          And tied round his throat
Was a handkerchief speckled with red;
          He'd a plum-colored vest,
          But what beat all the rest
Were two very sharp horns on his head.

          The man, trembling and pale,
          Began to bewail,
Beg, and entreat for his life,
          But Old Nick gave one peck
          At the nape of his neck,
And now there began a great strife.

          The fight lasted long
          (The man being strong),
But old Scratch came out victor at last.
          He got him down flat
          Like dog with a rat,
And with one sharp claw held him fast.

          With the other he felt
          The sharp knife in his belt;
When, lo! One bright whiz, one quick gash:
The Fiend with great art,
          Plunged it in the man's heart,
          Then vanished away in a flash.

          So now ends my tale,
          But pray don't bewail
The man's most deplorable end,
          But lest, sir, that you
          Be served that way too,
          Your duty—be sure to attend.

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