Eyes that know a thousand thoughts,
Skin that feels like leather,
A nose so crooked, broke, and bent,
And hair as light as a feather.
Ears that look like two bits of prime meat,
Brows so bushy and brown,
Hands that are skeletal, fingers so thin,
A mouth in a permanent frown.
Feet that have trod a million miles,
A head oh-so full of old thought,
Arms that have held a million things,
A face that looks so distraught.
Can we judge this book by its cover?
Nobody knows if we can.
Yet, somehow, we seem to discover
What goes on in this man.