Carl Michael Bellman
Epistle No. 36
Our Ulla lay one morning and slept,
A hand beneath her ear;
Her key alone the taverner kept
Or through its hole might peer.
Outside in the tavern, sir,
All was nocturnally quiet;
Beer was none, nor, I'll aver,
Scarce water to supply it.
He comes and goes
About her bedside, brothers;
Lifts a bit
And whispers with the others.
Snores and shivers,
O'er her head the blanket piles;
With a thunder;
Turns about and smiles.
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