James Jeffrey Roche

Baby's brain is tired of thinking On the Wherefore and the Whence; Baby's precious eyes are blinking

Oh, I want to win me hame To my ain countrie, The land frae whence I came

This is the tale that was told to me, By a battered and shattered son of the sea, To me and my messmate, Silas Green,

From the madding crowd they stand apart, The maidens four and the Work of Art; And none might tell from sight alone