That I longed for a hornpipe by little Del Caro;
Had I been ’mong the Gods I had surely cried Nosy,
Come play up a jig, and a fig for Pizarro.
On his wife and his child his affection to pay,
Alonzo stood gazing, and straight as an arrow;
Of him I have only this little to say,
His boots were much neater than those of Pizarro.
Then the priestess and virgins, in robes white and flowing,
Walked solemnly on like a sow and her farrow,
And politely informed the whole house they were going