The Higglers Poem by Jan Struther

As I lay a-thinking
Beneath a rowan-tree,
There came three higglers down the road
To buy my thoughts from me.
'A brown penny,' said the first;
'A penny for your thoughts,' said he.
'They're too mad and too many,' said I,
'To sell for a penny,' said I,
'Though you hunger and thirst
To know what my thoughts may be.'
'A white shilling,' said the second;
'A shilling for your thoughts,' said he.
'They're too rare and too thrilling,' said I,
'To sell for a shilling,' said I,
'Though doubtless you reckoned
'Twould do for the likes of me.'
'A golden pound,' said the third,
'A pound for your thoughts,' said he.
'They're too sweet and too sound,' said I,
'To sell for a pound,' said I,
'So never a word
Shall your gold piece gather from me.'
As I lay a-thinking
(The higglers gone)
I heard a step
And along came John.
He took my hand:
'What be your thoughts?' said he.
''I love you' and 'I love you,'' said I;
'You can have them free.'