feet, for just one hour, I know where
I’d go. I know a good warm tavern
where—)
O dear! could I only be free!
For a diet of fish and mussels,
Of cold raw fish and mussels,
Did never agree with me.”
The voice moved off across the sea, and died away in the distance.
“Dear me!” said the Queen. “What an extraordinary song! And so sad, too.”
“Never mind, grandmother,” said Bojohn. “Please let him go on with his story.”