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Page 3
"Oh, elderly man it's little I know
Of the duties of men of the sea,
And I'll eat my hand if I understand
How you can possibly be
"At once a cook, and a captain bold,
And the mate of the _Nancy_ brig,
And a bo'sun tight and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig."
Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which
Is a trick all seamen larn,
And having got rid of a thumping quid,
He spun this painful yarn:
"'Twas in the good ship _Nancy Bell_
That we sailed to the Indian sea,
And there on a reef we come to grief,
Which has often occurred to me.
"And pretty nigh all o' the crew was drowned
(There was seventy-seven o' soul),
And only ten of the _Nancy's_ men
Said 'Here!' to the muster roll.
"There was me and the cook and the captain bold,
And the mate of the _Nancy_ brig,
And the bo'sun tight and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig.
"For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink,
Till a-hungry we did feel,
So, we drawed a lot, and, accordin' shot
The captain for our meal.
"The next lot fell to the _Nancy's_ mate,
And a delicate dish he made;
Then our appetite with the midshipmite
We seven survivors stayed.
"And then we murdered the bo'sun tight,
And he much resembled pig;
Then we wittled free, did the cook and me,
On the crew of the captain's gig.
"Then only the cook and me was left,
And the delicate question, 'Which
Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose,
And we argued it out as sich.
"For I loved that cook as a brother, I did,
And the cook he worshipped me;
But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed
In the other chap's hold, you see.
"'I'll be eat if you dines off me,' says Tom,
'Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be,'--
'I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I,
And 'Exactly so,' quoth he.
"Says he, 'Dear James, to murder me
Were a foolish thing to do,
For don't you see that you can't cook _me_,
While I can--and will--cook _you_!'
"So, he boils the water, and takes the salt
And the pepper in portions true
(Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot,
And some sage and parsley too.
"'Come here,' says he, with a proper pride,
Which his smiling features tell,
''T will soothing be if I let you see,
How extremely nice you'll smell,'
"And he stirred it round and round and round,
And he sniffed the foaming froth;
When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals
In the scum of the boiling broth.
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