The poem
I care not what the sailors say: All those dreadful thunder-stones, All that storm that blots the day Can but show that Heaven yawns; Great Europa played the fool That changed a lover for a bull. Fol de rol, fol de rol.
To round that shell's elaborate whorl, Adorning every secret track With the delicate mother-of-pearl, Made the joints of Heaven crack: So never hang your heart upon A roaring, ranting journeyman. Fol de rol, fol de rol.