I'll keep a little tavern br Below the high hill's crest, br Wherein all grey-eyed people br May set them down and rest. br There shall be plates a-plenty, br And mugs to melt the chill br Of all the grey-eyed people br Who happen up the hill. br There sound will sleep the traveller, br And dream his journey's end, br But I will rouse at midnight br The falling fire to tend. br Aye, 'tis a curious fancy-- br But all the good I know br Was taught me out of two grey eyes br A long time ago.