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"Who are you?" demanded Barnabas

"Billy, sir, poor Billy--Sir William, perhaps--but, mum for that;

the moon knows, but cannot tell, then why should I?"

"And what do you want--here?"

"To sing, sir, for you and the lady, if you will I sing for high

folk and low folk I have enerally ask forfor rich and poor,

for the sad and for theat country fairs sometimes,

and sometimes to trees in lonely places--trees are excellent

listeners always But to-night I sing for--The dead, know all things, and live on for

ever Ah, but they're kind to poor Billy, and though they have no

buttons to give his!--things tofor the for Her"

"Who is she?"

"One who died, o Folk told her I was dead, killed at

sea, and her heart broke--hearts will break--sometimes So when she

died, I put off the shoes frorave Folk tell me that poor Billy's mad--well, perhaps he is--but

he sees and hears s

You nohat do they tell me of you? Hush! You are on your way to

London, they tell me--yes--yes, to London town; you are rich, and

shall feast with princes, but youth is over-confident, and thus