Lass, I've heard tell
That in this well
The Roman folk would chuck,
When things were going ill with them,
A coin or so for luck.

And their great Wall's a ruin on the fell,
And naught of their camp living but this well!

Ay, lass, that's so;
And yet although
Their rampart could not stand,
Who knows but luck meant getting back
Again to their own land?

So, you've chucked our last copper in the well?
Well, what luck is or isn't, who can tell!