Tomorrow, more's the pity, / Away we both must hie, To air the ditty / and to earth I.

Made of earth and sea / His overcoat for ever, / And wears the turning globe.

Who made the world I cannot tell;
'Tis made, and here I am in hell.

Who made the world I cannot tell; 'Tis made, and here am I in hell. My hand, though now my knuckles bleed, I never soiled with such a deed.

To-day I shall be strong,
No more shall yield to wrong,
Shall squander life no more;
Days lost, I know not how,
I shall retrieve them now;
Now I shall keep the vow
I never kept before.

Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose,
But young men think it is, and we were young.