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!