| I care not what the sailors say: |
| All those dreadful thunder-stones, |
| All that storm that blots the day |
| Can but show that Heaven yawns; |
| Great Europa played the fool |
| That changed a lover for a bull. |
| Fol de rol, fol de rol. |
| To round that shell’s elaborate whorl, |
| Adorning every secret track |
| With the delicate mother-of- pearl, |
| Made the joints of Heaven crack: |
| So never hang your heart upon |
| A roaring, ranting journeyman. |
| Fol de rol, fol de rol. |