He was King of the Huns, had seventy sons,
And daughters one hundred and three, three, three,
And daughters 1, 0, 3.
All nations vowed him a very fine fellow,
With them he couldn’t agree;
One Autumn so mellow, he conquered Torcello
A. D. four hundred and forty-three,
Anno Domini 4, 4, 3.
So he left a son to watch over the place,
Though round it flowed the sea,