Rots the potatoes in their bed,
Fingers and toes gives swedes instead
Of bellies in the usual way.
Wring out my mouchoir, damp with flow
Of constant cold through warp and woof,
Bring in a patent waterproof,
Through whose seams raindrops will not go.
Wring out the shirts, wring out the skin,
To which I've been wet many times;
Ring out the raindrops' pattering chimes,