Sang a bone upon the shore；
A child found all a child can lack，
Whether of pleasure or of rest，
Upon the abundance1 of my breast：
A bone wave-whitened and dried in the wind.
Three dear things that women know，
Sang a bone upon the shore；
A man if I but held him so
When my body was alive
Found all the pleasure that life gave：
A bone wave-whitened and dried in the wind.
The third thing that I think of yet，
Sang a bone upon the shore，
Is that morning when I met
Face to face my rightful man
And did after stretch and yawn：
A bone wave-whitened and dried in the wind.
