The sunshine is arranging it's cover,
Over the field of heather ,
In the Cornwall Coast of England.
But the sea is a little unpaitient
Over the other side of the cliff.
Quite contary to the weather,
On the day before tommorow.
The turbulent waters ,
Have not still swallowed up,
The human flesh thrown into them
Two days ago,
Though 'tis the day before tommorow
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