In vineyard, beneath vine tree
Two thieves would mutter in glee
There vines to all though were free
Vines in hands they would flee.
As much as possible they could steal
There watchman carolled though.
When the owner came to know,
Upon a bull the watchman would grill.

On a wintry morning they came in disguise
When the vineyard was beyond sheen
Or, vines in divine size
Summon'd the echoing green.
As much as possible they stole vines
And soar up their mind into skies.
Equally to a horse the watchman lies
Although none blamed upon bines.

More or ten minutes mistakenly past
Bang! Bang! -thieves sounded out of lee.
He, angry with the bull, did cast
Clods after clods, a bitter plea.
The beast grew up in wrath, flinging
Twice it's horns to frighten him
Hence, a black and tortuous stream
Was placed for him to live in!