My mother was a romantic girl
So she had to marry a man 
    with his hair in curl
Who subsequently became my 
    unrespected papa,
But that was a long time ago now.

What folly it is that daughters are always supposed to be 
In love with papa.  It wasn't the case with me
I couldn't take to him at all
But he took to me
What a sad fate to befall
A child of three.

I sat upright in my baby carriage
And wished mama hadn't made such a foolish marriage.
I tried to hide it, but it showed in my eyes unfortunately
And a fortnight later papa ran away to sea.

He used to come home on leave
It was always the same
I could not grieve
But I think I was somewhat to blame.