Wot plows upon the sea;
To you I mean for to unfold
My mournful histo-ree.
So pay attention to my song,
And quick-el-ly shall appear,
How innocently, all along,
I vos in-weigle-ed here.
One night, returnin home to bed,
I walk’d through Pim-li-co,
And, twigging of the Palass, sed,