Old King Caraway Supped On Cake, And A Cup Of Sack His Thirst To Slake; Bird In Arras And Hound In Hall Watched Very Softly Or Not At All; Fire In The Middle, Stone All Round Changed Not, Heeded Not, Made No Sound; All By Himself At The Table High he'd Nibble And Sip While His Dreams Slipped By; And When He Had Finished, he'd Nod And Say, 'Cake And Sack For King Caraway!'