Haddocks' Eyes

Haddocks' Eyes is a poem by Lewis Carroll from Through the Looking-Glass. It is sung by The White Knight in chapter eight to a tune that he claims as his own invention, but which Alice recognizes as I give thee all, I can no more.

By the time Alice heard it, she was already tired of poetry.

It is a parody of "Resolution and Independence" by William Wordsworth.

Naming
The White Knight explains a confusing nomenclature for the song.


 * The song's name is called Haddocks' Eyes
 * The song's name really is The Aged Aged Man
 * The song is called        Ways and Means
 * The song really is   A-sitting On a Gate

This complicated terminology entails the use–mention distinction.

The Poem

 * I'll tell thee everything I can:
 * There's little to relate.
 * I saw an aged aged man,
 * A-sitting on a gate.
 * "Who are you, aged man?" I said,
 * "And how is it you live?"
 * And his answer trickled through my head,
 * Like water through a sieve.


 * He said "I look for butterflies
 * That sleep among the wheat:
 * I make them into mutton-pies,
 * And sell them in the street.
 * I sell them unto men," he said,
 * "Who sail on stormy seas;
 * And that's the way I get my bread --
 * A trifle, if you please."


 * But I was thinking of a plan
 * To dye one's whiskers green,
 * And always use so large a fan
 * That they could not be seen.
 * So, having no reply to give
 * To what the old man said,
 * I cried "Come, tell me how you live!"
 * And thumped him on the head.


 * His accents mild took up the tale:
 * He said "I go my ways,
 * And when I find a mountain-rill,
 * I set it in a blaze;
 * And thence they make a stuff they call
 * Rowlands' Macassar-Oil --
 * Yet twopence-halfpenny is all
 * They give me for my toil."


 * But I was thinking of a way
 * To feed oneself on batter,
 * And so go on from day to day
 * Getting a little fatter.
 * I shook him well from side to side,
 * Until his face was blue:
 * "Come, tell me how you live," I cried,
 * "And what it is you do!"


 * He said "I hunt for haddocks' eyes
 * Among the heather bright,
 * And work them into waistcoat-buttons
 * In the silent night.
 * And these I do not sell for gold
 * Or coin of silvery shine,
 * But for a copper halfpenny,
 * And that will purchase nine.


 * "I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
 * Or set limed twigs for crabs:
 * I sometimes search the grassy knolls
 * For wheels of Hansom-cabs.
 * And that's the way" (he gave a wink)
 * "By which I get my wealth--
 * And very gladly will I drink
 * Your Honour's noble health."


 * I heard him then, for I had just
 * Completed my design
 * To keep the Menai bridge from rust
 * By boiling it in wine.
 * I thanked him much for telling me
 * The way he got his wealth,
 * But chiefly for his wish that he
 * Might drink my noble health.


 * And now, if e'er by chance I put
 * My fingers into glue,
 * Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
 * Into a left-hand shoe,


 * Or if I drop upon my toe
 * A very heavy weight,
 * I weep, for it reminds me so
 * Of that old man I used to know--
 * Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow
 * Whose hair was whiter than the snow,
 * Whose face was very like a crow,
 * With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
 * Who seemed distracted with his woe,
 * Who rocked his body to and fro,
 * And muttered mumblingly and low,
 * As if his mouth were full of dough,
 * Who snorted like a buffalo--
 * That summer evening long ago,
 * A-sitting on a gate.

Upon the Lonely Moor
Like "Jabberwocky," another poem published in Through the Looking Glass, "Haddocks’ Eyes" appears to have been revised over the course of many years. In 1856, Carroll published the following poem anonymously under the name Upon the Lonely Moor. It bears an obvious resemblance to "Haddocks' Eyes."


 * I met an aged, aged man
 * Upon the lonely moor:
 * I knew I was a gentleman,
 * And he was but a boor.
 * So I stopped and roughly questioned him,
 * "Come, tell me how you live!"
 * But his words impressed my ear no more
 * Than if it were a sieve.


 * He said, "I look for soap-bubbles,
 * That lie among the wheat,
 * And bake them into mutton-pies,
 * And sell them in the street.
 * I sell them unto men," he said,
 * "Who sail on stormy seas;
 * And that's the way I get my bread -
 * A trifle, if you please."


 * But I was thinking of a way
 * To multiply by ten,
 * And always, in the answer, get
 * The question back again.
 * I did not hear a word he said,
 * But kicked that old man calm,
 * And said, "Come, tell me how you live!"
 * And pinched him in the arm.


 * His accents mild took up the tale:
 * He said, "I go my ways,
 * And when I find a mountain-rill,
 * I set it in a blaze.
 * And thence they make a stuff they call
 * Rowland's Macassar Oil;
 * But fourpence-halfpenny is all
 * They give me for my toil."


 * But I was thinking of a plan
 * To paint one's gaiters green,
 * So much the color of the grass
 * That they could ne'er be seen.
 * I gave his ear a sudden box,
 * And questioned him again,
 * And tweaked his grey and reverend locks,
 * And put him into pain.


 * He said, "I hunt for haddock's eyes
 * Among the heather bright,
 * And work them into waistcoat-buttons
 * In the silent night.
 * And these I do not sell for gold,
 * Or coin or silver-mine,
 * But for a copper-halfpenny,
 * And that will purchase nine.


 * "I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
 * Or set limed twigs for crabs;
 * I sometimes search the flowery knolls
 * For wheels of hansom cabs.
 * And that's the way" (he gave a wink)
 * "I get my living here,
 * And very gladly will I drink
 * Your Honour's health in beer."


 * I heard him then, for I had just
 * Completed my design
 * To keep the Menai bridge from rust
 * By boiling it in wine.
 * I duly thanked him, ere I went,
 * For all his stories queer,
 * But chiefly for his kind intent
 * To drink my health in beer.


 * And now if e'er by chance I put
 * My fingers into glue,
 * Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
 * Into a left-hand shoe;
 * Or if a statement I aver
 * Of which I am not sure,
 * I think of that strange wanderer
 * Upon the lonely moor.