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Updated: October 29, 2026
I swear I'll ne'er forget the right of you; * And fain this breast would soar to height of you: You made me drain the love cup, and I lief * A love cup tender for delight of you: Take this my form where'er you go, and when * You die, entomb me in the site of you: Call on me in my grave, and hear my bones * Sigh their responses to the shright of you: And were I asked 'Of God what wouldst thou see? * I answer, 'first His will then Thy decree!
Tackleton's name Em'lv. "I call it a jolly rotten song," said Stephen crossly. "I won't stand being got at." "P'r'aps y'like therold song. Lishen. "'Of all the gulls that arsshmart, There's none line pretty Em'ly; For she's the darling of merart'" "Now, that's wrong." He rode up close to the singer. "Shright." "'Tisn't." "It's as my mother taught me." "I don't care."