When The Air Was Damp It Made My Curls Hang Slack As They Kissed My Neck And Back While I Footed The Salt-Aired Track I Loved To Tramp. When It Was Dry They Would Roll Up Crisp And Tight As I Went On In The Light Of The Sun, Which My Own Sprite Seemed To Outvie. "Now I Am Old; And Have Not One Gay Curl As I Had When A Girl For Dampness To Unfurl Or Sun Uphold!"