I went to blow a king’s mantle ’bout his limbs,
And cut me on the crusted gilt.
And tainted did I stain the rose until she turned
A snuffy brown and rested her poor head
Upon the rail along the path.
Whiff, sayeth the wind.
Whiff, sayeth the wind.
I blow me ’long the coast,
And steal from out the waves their roar;
And yet from out the riffles do I steal