( Παραδοσιακή Αγγλική ερωτική μπαλάντα των αρχών του 19ου αιώνα)

When I was a bachelor I lived all alone
and worked at the weaver's trade
And the only, only thing that I ever did wrong,
was to woo a fair young maid.
I wooed her in the winter time, and in the summer too . . .
And the only, only thing I did that was wrong
was to keep her from the foggy, foggy dew.

One night she came to my bedside when I lay fast asleep,
She laid her head upon my bed and she began to weep.
She sighed, she cried, she damn'd near died,
she said: "What shall I do?"
So I hauled her into bed and I covered up her head,
just to keep her from the foggy, foggy dew.

Oh, I am a bachelor and I live with my son,
and we work at the weaver's trade.
And ev'ry single time that I look into his eyes,
he reminds me of the fair young maid.
He reminds me of the winter time, and of the summer too,
And of the many, many times that I held her in my arms,
just to keep her from the foggy, foggy dew.