Let women long for dainty things,
Expecting twins - content am I:
I want no more, no more than the sea
Wants water, that was never dry.
The ale was strong, and I had three,
Three glasses only, on my soul!
I could have walked home straight, but still
Preferred a proud, Atlantic roll.

Those stars in Heaven are frisking lambs,
Not flocks of steady sheep,' I think;
'Poets who call them flocks of sheep,
Are fools, or either lie or drink.'
As I said this, the earth broke up,
And danced in parts, like living things;
Till, falling on their backs, I twirled
Around and around, in countless rings.

The worm may turn, it matters not,
It helps the bird, and nothing more:
I turned and turned, but still those parts
Danced faster than they did before.
Till, rolled and rocked to sleep at last,
I lost, it seems, my senses nine:
The sun stood still, in Joshua's day,
But how the earth has danced, in mine!