Wonderful lovely there she sat, Singing the night away, All in the solitudinous sea Of that there lonely bay.

Bang! Now the animal Is dead and dumb and done. Nevermore to peep again, creep again, leap again, Eat or sleep or drink again, oh, what fun!

For beauty with sorrow Is a burden hard to be borne: The evening light on the foam, and the swans, there; That music, remote, forlorn.

Three jolly huntsmen, In coats of red, Rode their horses Up to bed.