My voice is my own and my actions are free;
I have but one note, and I'll chant it with glee,
And from morning to night that note it shall be—
Chorus. Croak, croak, croak.
BACCHUS. Nay then, old rebel, but I'll stop your treble,
With a poke, poke, poke:
Take this from my rudder—(dashing at the frogs)—and that from my oar,
And now let us see if you'll trouble us more
With your croak, croak, croak.
LEADER. You may batter and bore,