I Spied John Mouldy In His Cellar, Deep Down Twenty Steps Of Stone; In The Dusk He Sat A-Smiling, Smiling There Alone. He Read No Book, He Snuffed No Candle; The Rats Ran In, The Rats Ran Out; And Far And Near, The Drip Of Water Went Whisp'Ring About. The Dusk Was Still, With Dew A-Falling, I Saw The Dog-Star Bleak And Grim, I Saw A Slim Brown Rat Of Norway Creep Over Him. I Spied John Mouldy In His Cellar, Deep Down Twenty Steps Of Stone; In The Dusk He Sat A-Smiling, Smiling There Alone.