Back in't day when folk were folk along came Henry Krinkle
his one remaining bloodshot eye still carried quite a twinkle
he cried 'eh-up lad, tha knows tha's not a sailor or a peasant,
so why yer singing that daft song, it really isn't pleasant'
but he were only waiting for a floor spot in't owd club,
and he only knew one song to sing, and ee wasn't very good.
He'd bin banned from most clubs 'ere about and for this were rather sore
but he sang as how he'd never play the Wild Rover, nay, no more.