Death has cabbaged her, oh she’s fled,
With your rolly-pooly, gammon and spinnage,
Heigh-ho, says Thimble.
“Thimble buried his wife last night,
Heigh-ho, says Thimble,
It grieves me to bury my heart’s delight
With a diamond ring on her finger so tight,
With your rolly-pooly, gammon and spinnage,
Heigh-ho, says Thimble.
“To cut off her finger and get this ring,