Sir William, he rolls on through winds and waves;
Undaunted, he all kinds of weather braves;
Nor his strange project e'er relinquish'd he,
Till one-and-twenty years he'd been at sea;
Then, p'rhaps, he thought, "Good lack! the world is round;
The end is nowhere—so it can't be found;
And, as I'm weary of this wild-goose chase,
At home again, e'er long I'll show my face."
Then off he set, but little was aware,
What would transpire on his arrival there: