When man was young, and scraping by,
and knew of nothing beyond the sky,
his life, as it was meant to be;
when he was wild and he was free,
he had no time for modesty.
If we were naked constantly,
our bits would lose their novelty,
and though, by some, we’d still be sinners, living life untamed,
and freezing in the dead of winter, we’d still die unashamed.