It broke his neck, and his shoulder blade,
His legs, and arms, its broke,
And laid him out, a squirming trout,
'Twas then he awoke, and spoke!
Said he, "What's up? is the dancing done?
The waltz has made me sore!"
And wriggling out on the frosty ground,
He never spoke no more!
Heigho! the murder was caused by me,
Was never a soul who knew,