human
Who are you, aged man? I said,
gpt
And how is it you live?
human
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,
gpt
Who sail on stormy seas; And that's the way I get my bread-- A trifle, if you please.
human
Come, tell me how you live!
gpt
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 twopence-halfpenny is all They give me for my toil.
human
Come, tell me how you live, I cried,
gpt
And what it is you do!
human
I hunt for haddock's eyes Among the heather bright, And work them into waistcoat-buttons In the silent night. And these I do not sell for gold Or coin of silvery shine, But for a copper halfpenny And that will purchase nine.
gpt
I sometimes dig for buttered rolls, Or set limed twigs for crabs; I sometimes search the grassy knolls For wheels of Hansom cabs. And that's the way (he gave a wink)
human
By which I get my wealth-- And very gladly will I drink Your Honor's noble health.