The Old Dutchman

It's not funny to stand

knocking at Katinka's.

The moon shines and the world goes,

and the frozen stars twinkle.

My ankle is red, my nose is blue.

Come on, lift up the door latch.

Set the door ajar and let me

find a shelter, you strumpet.

You shall set a table with small

golden cups that twinkle,

beer and brandy and cheese for two

and then a fat smoked ham.