Hang on, stitching together your page...
That I couldn’t get you out last night!
On my father all my hopes were pinned.
I was stuck
my father wasn’t in.
I was stuck, imprisoned at your whim!
Doesn’t that make you contrite?
Don’t you know I did my best?
This is all my fault, of course, that’s known.
Anyway, my father came back home
but your freedom he would not condone
‘til I promised him that I’d—