When ’Omer smote
‘is bloomin’ lyre,
He’d ‘eard
men sing by land an’ sea;
An’ what he thought
’e might require,
‘E went
an’ took the same as me!
The market-girls an’
fishermen,
The shepherds
an’ the sailors, too,
They ’eard old songs
turn up again,
But kep’
it quiet same as you!
They knew ’e stole;
’e knew they knowed.
They didn’t
tell, nor make a fuss,
But winked at ’Omer
down the road,
An’ ’e
winked back the same as us!