Stephano

Stephano

[I shall no more to sea, to sea,

Here shall I die ashore --]

[This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's

funeral: well, here's my comfort.]

(

Drinks

(

Sings

The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,

The gunner and his mate

Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,

But none of us cared for Kate;

For she had a tongue with a tang,

Would cry to a sailor, 'Go hang!'

She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch,

Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch:

Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang!

This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my comfort.