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!
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