As I came over Windy Gap
                     They threw a halfpenny into my cap,
                     For I [bad word] to Paradise;
                   And all that I need do is to wish
                    And somebody puts his hand into dish
                   To throw me a bit of salted fish:
                                And there the king is but as the beggar.

My brother Mourteen is worn out
In skelping his big brawling lout,
And I [bad word] to Paradise;
poor life, do what he can,
And though he keep a dog and a gun,
serving-maid and a serving-man:
And there the king is but as the beggar.

Poor men have grown to be rich men,
And rich men grown to be poor again,
And I [bad word] to Paradise;
And many a darling wit's grown dull
That tossed a bare heel when at school
Now it has filled an old sock full:
And there the king is but as the beggar.

The wind is old and still at play
While I must hurry upon my way,
For I [bad word] to Paradise;
Yet never have I lit on a friend
To take my fancy like the wind
That nobody can buy or bind:
And there the king is but as the beggar.