I dreamt a hardy tale

Of savory pie

The morning fog

Upon my brow 

I cleansed my face and hands

The bitch was yelling

As usual 

I fed the hogs 

And chickens

And the mule

Roscoe 

Was it a dream

Upon visiting the gravestone

To be put upon by a convict

From the hulk?

I carried a file

A pie 

And rum

Towards the convicts colic

And returned to the gravestone