Wait ’til the Moon comes out again.  
         Then we’ll sit down together, boys,  
         to more than Black Jack or Fortune. 
  
 Ah! but the Moon sails away,  
 like a face that has found fortune fair.  
 And the rain pelting the roof  
 frightens the robbers. The cook  
 frightens the robbers. The swollen light  
 swings  
 back and forth, snaring the robber beast  
 and the robber beast and the robber beast  
 until the murmuring stops. 
  
 Leaving the hills, I’ll say I left the Moon.