We all love a pretty girl - under the rose.

How happy is the sailor's life, from coast to coast to roam; in every port he finds a wife, in every land a home.

There was a jolly miller once, / Lived on the river Dee; / He worked and sang from morn till night; / No lark more blithe than he.

And this the burden of his song / For ever used to be, / I care for nobody, not I, / If no one cares for me.

I don't want to describe it in too much detail. It's not a real pretty sight.

It was pretty easy to cross (illegally) the border back then. You still had to sneak across and hide in the bushes so they wouldn't see you, but it's nothing like it is today.