* * * ("When ’Omer smote ’is bloomin’ lyre")

«WHEN ’OMER SMOTE ’IS BLOOMIN’ LYRE»

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!

’e stole; ’e knew they knowed.

They didn’t tell, nor make a fuss,

’Omer down the road,

An’ ’e winked back - the same as us!