Haddocks' Eyes

"Haddocks' Eyes" is the nickname[1] of the name of a song sung by The White Knight from Lewis Carroll's 1871 novel Through the Looking-Glass, chapter VIII.

[1] The White Knight sings the song to a tune he claims as his own invention, but which Alice recognises as "I give thee all, I can no more".

The song parodies the plot, but not the style or metre, of "Resolution and Independence" by William Wordsworth.

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."

He said "I hunt for haddocks' eyes Among the heather bright, And work them into waistcoat-buttons In the silent night.

"I sometimes dig for buttered rolls, Or set limed twigs for crabs: I sometimes search the grassy knolls For wheels of Hansom-cabs.

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.

Like "Jabberwocky," another poem published in Through the Looking Glass, "Haddocks’ Eyes" appears to have been revised over the course of many years.

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.

"I sometimes dig for buttered rolls, Or set limed twigs for crabs; I sometimes search the flowery knolls For wheels of hansom cabs.

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.