The water—well distilled—the skull and bones,
The basket filled with bloody paving stones,
Where are those bloody paving stones—O yes!
They’re here behind the table—what a mess.
The thunder—where can that be—thunder! Ho!
Oh thunder—here it is—I ought to know
I put it there myself. And now the hail,
The hail,—let’s see—O yes! it’s in that pail,
Quite near and handy. Now, as to effect,
The lover in the centre, stiff, erect;