A voyage o'er seas had not entered my head,
Had I known on which side to butter my bread.
Heigho! sure I for hunger must die!
I've failed like a booby, come here in a squall,
Where, alas! there's no bread to be buttered at all!
Oh! I'm a terrible booby!
Oh, what a sad booby am I!

In London what gay chop-house signs in the street!
But the only sign here is of nothing to eat.
Heigho! that I for hunger should die!
My mutton's all lost, I'm a poor starving elf,
And for all the world like a lost mutton myself.
Oh! I shall die a lost mutton!
Oh, what a lost mutton am I!

For a neat slice of beef I could roar like a bull;
And my stomach's so empty, my heart is quite full.
Heigho! that I for hunger should die!
But grave without meat I must here meet my grave,
For my bacon I fancy I never shall save.
Oho! I shall ne'er save my bacon!
I can't save my bacon, not I!