And to-morrow will be Friday, but we’ve caught no fish to-day;

Oh, to-morrow will be Friday, but we’ve caught no fish to-day!

Maledicite!”

So back they went to the convent gate,

Abbot and monks disconsolate;

For they thought of the morrow with faces white,

Saying, “Oh, we must curb our appetite!

But down in the depths of the vault below

There’s Malvoisie for a world of woe!”

So they quaff their wine, and all declare