said Alice , who was by this time completely bewildered . ' I was coming to that , ' the Knight said . ` The song really IS `` A-SITTING ON A GATE '' : and the tune 's my own invention . ' So saying , he stopped his horse and let the reins fall on its neck : then , slowly beating time with one hand , and with a faint smile lighting up his gentle foolish face , as if he enjoyed the music of his song , he began . Of all the strange things that Alice saw in her journey Through The Looking-Glass , this was the one that she always remembered most clearly . Years afterwards she could bring the whole scene back again , as if it had been only yesterday -- the mild blue eyes and kindly smile of the Knight -- the setting sun gleaming through his hair , and shining on his armour in a blaze of light that quite dazzled her -- the horse quietly moving about , with the reins hanging loose on his neck , cropping the grass at her feet -- and the black shadows of the forest behind -- all this she took in like a picture , as , with one hand shading her eyes , she leant against a tree , watching the strange pair , and listening , in a half dream , to the melancholy music of the song . ` But the tune IS N'T his own invention , ' she said to herself : ` it 's `` I GIVE THEE ALL , I CAN NO MORE . '' ' She stood and listened very attentively , but no tears came into her eyes . ` 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 Rolands ' 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 XXXXX , `` And what it is you do ! ''
's bring cried enjoyed gleaming live relate seen shading stopped