All was arranged, and he could do no more
But pass the time until the clock struck four.
He wandered up the Market; far and wide
The burly drovers elbowed him aside,
The sheep regarded him with mild surprise
Behind their hurdles, and the hairy eyes
Of families of little porkers stared
And cart-horses with braided tresses glared
And stamped upon the cobbles. From their shed
The calves looked bluntly round and many a head
Of penned-up fowls peered through a wiry door,—
“Jocko!” they cackled, “we will meet once more!”