“There sits the squire, my worthy sire,
A-drinking hisself drunk,
And so did he, ah woe is me!
The day my body sunk.
“There sits my mother, half asleep,
A-taking of her ease,
Her mind is deep, if one might peep,
In her preserves and keys.
“There sits my sister, cruel Joan,
Who last week drownded me;