Ay, lad!

I will walk to Rotterdam
The place I want to be,
Where legs will feel much lighter,
Where I will dance more free.
I will walk to Gjerdmundshamn
With a name so fucking long,
I'll pick an axe, a beer,
As self-sufficient as I am,
A lady goddamn strong.
I will walk to Dingle,
Hoping I shall mingle,
As trustworthy as steady boots,
In mud thoughts covered, there she shoots.
And just as I walked down the line,
I slipped and saw a man damn fine,
And since there came a chance to dine -
I jumped up charming the poor lad,
His hair so thick, his stature - mad!
But wait, mate, something's wrong, you're soft...
Oh, who the hell am I to lose,
Drank too much beer,
It is a moose.