When 'Omer Smote 'Is Bloomin' Lyre
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!
Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.