Into the pit the sawdust fell;
And the wind flicked it in his face:
And Paul could grin! All very well
For him to grin; and, in Paul's place,
Like enough he'd be cocky, too.
Ah well, ah well, you never knew —

Never! And Paul was getting on:
Old Paul was little more than skin
And bone: and, when old Paul was gone,
He'd be top-sawyer; and could grin
To see the blinding sawdust fall,
Half-smothering Paul's grandson, Paul!