Now I’m a Pacific purser,
And don’t think I can do any worser,
Foolin’ my life away.
“Yes, that’s the way,” said Jones, “that some go squandrin’,
Which minds me that we too must now be wand’rin’:”
“And I,” quoth Brown, “must be aboard and early;
But first of all I’m going to see my girley;
She’d blow a storm if I should fail to meet her:
She is, I vum, an awful breezy creeter,
A gale in petticoats, and one that’s stinging;