Evil plagues the Wand’ring Boblet
Over Hill and Borrowdale;
Drinking from forbidden goblet,
Cursed by fate, and bound to fail.
In the bleakest cold of winter
Or the blazing summer sun,
Toils and sweats the anguished Boblet,
For his work is never done.
High and low they must pursue him,
Hound him even unto death.
Until at last receives the Boblet
His just reward, and final rest...
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