You were fresh off the boat from Virginia / I had a year in New York City under my belt / We met in a dream, we were both nineteen
Do you think you are here, sir, / Amongst your waistcoateers, your base wenches?
A gage of ben Rom-bouse, / In a bousing-ken of Rom-vile, / Is benar than a Caster, / Pecke, pennam, lay, or popler, / Which we mill in deuse a vile. [paraphrase] A pot of good wine, / In a pub of London, / Is better than a cloak, / Meat, bread, milk, or porridge, / Which we steal in the countryside.
The stars are all out, sending their indecipherable messages. Starlight, starbright. Debbie comes out into the garden and asks us what on earth we are doing out here in the dark and Charles says, 'Starbathing.'
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