As I Came Over Windy Gap They Threw A Halfpenny Into My Cap, For I Am Running To Paradise; And All That I Need Do Is To Wish And Somebody Puts His Hand In The Dish To Throw Me A Bit Of Salted Fish: And There The King Is But As The Beggar. My Brother Mourteen Is Worn Out With Skelping His Big Brawling Lout, And I Am Running To Paradise; A Poor Life Do What He Can, And Though He Keep A Dog And A Gun, A Serving Maid And A Serving Man: And There The King Is But As The Beggar. Poor Men Have Grown To Be Rich Men, And Rich Men Grown To Be Poor Again, And I Am Running To Paradise; And Many A Darling WIt's Grown Dull That Tossed A Bare Heel When At School, Now It Has Filled An Old Sock Full: And There The King Is But As The Beggar. The Wind Is Old And Still At Play While I Must Hurry Upon My Way, For I Am Running To Paradise; Yet Never Have I Lit On A Friend To Take My Fancy Like The Wind That Nobody Can Buy Or Bind: And There The King Is But As The Beggar.