Ri fol de rol tol de rol lol.
My stars, in the air here's a knife!
I'm sure it cannot be a hum;
I'll catch at the handle, add's life,
And then I shall not cut my thumb.
I've got him!—no, at him again,
Come, come, I'm not fond of these jokes:
This must be some blade of the brain:
Those witches are given to hoax.
I've one in my pocket, I know,