"...Blind as I was, I tried to get out
As the carriage fell in the ditch,
And was caught in the wheels and killed.
There's a blind man there with a brow
As big and white as a cloud.
And alle we fiddlers from highest to lowest,
Writes of music and tellers of stories,
Sit at his feet,
And hear him sing of the fall of Troy"
(Blind Jack - Spoon River Anthology)