Creak, Little Wood Thing, Creak, When I Touch You With Elbow Or Knee; That Is The Way You Speak Of One Who Gave You To Me! You, Little Table, She Brought - Brought Me With Her Own Hand, As She Looked At Me With A Thought That I Did Not Understand. - Whoever Owns It Anon, And Hears It, Will Never Know What A History Hangs Upon This Creak From Long Ago.