But, then, as I’ve said, there was only Tom Tough,
And no one to bother about him;
And if he comed to grief, why, ’twas certain enough
That the world could get well on without him.
But the matter’s changed entirely since the bonniest o’ lasses,
Swore she’d ever love me truly; for since then, where’er I roam,
Why, my heart with fervent longing, that all other thoughts surpasses,
Keeps a-turning ever constant towards my happy little home,
For there sits my Polly a-waiting for me,
Her heart, with the billows, time beating,