CAP’N NUTTER OF THE “PUDDENTAME”
The foam bells tinkle at gilded prow
—There’s a creamy wake to the far horizon.
And she tiptoes along with a New York bow
To the curt’sying waves, and we’ll all allow,
She’s the daintiest yacht we have set our eyes
on.
While sneaking after, in grimy shame,
Rolls tops’l schooner, the “Puddentame.”
On the rocking surge swings the millionaire,
And about him splendor and music and
laughter;
The glint of jewels and ladies fair;
Jollity throned, and Old King Care
Drowned in the brine and dragging after.
But the billows lift and toss the same
Old Cap’n Nutter in the “Puddentame.”
Under the gloom of the Porcupines,
In the gleam of the lights of the summer city,
In a tapestried cabin the rich man dines,
And toasts his friends in his bubbling wines,
While the repartee and the careless ditty
Float from the lips of squire and dame
To Cap’n Nutter of the “Puddentame.”
And the old man munches his bread and cheese
In the gloom and grime of his little cuddy;
—Through the mirk of the dusty deadlight sees
This riot of riches; then on his knees
—This sea-stained, warped old fuddy-duddy—
He prays for their souls in the Saviour’s
name,
—-Does Cap’n Nutter of the u Puddentame.
And they?—Why, they neither know nor care
That the honest chap has knelt and pleaded.
For just at the edge of the dazzling glare
From the rocking yacht of the millionaire,
The old craft swings and sways unheeded.
Yet who’ll sleep better, jaded Fame
Or Cap’n Nutter of the “Puddentame”?