Page 103

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TOC Page 102 Page 104

       At Island Bridge she met her tide.
       Attabom, attabom, attabombomboom!
       The Fin had a flux and his Ebba a ride.
       Attabom, attabom, attabombomboom!
       We're all up to the years in hues and cribies.
       That's what she's done for wee! 
                           Woe!

  Nomad may roam with Nabuch but let naaman laugh at Jor- 
dan! For we, we have taken our sheet upon her stones where we
have hanged our hearts in her trees; and we list, as she bibs us,
by the waters of babalong.