Ye fates, do not bring the worst unto me,
That of trying to handle a nondescript mule,
In a rooty new ground—O the depths of the sea
I’d choose, in the hope with the fish to be free;
However, such choosing would prove me a fool—
No applicant I for a sea-bottom school.
Since I’ve come to think, ’twas a German-tried school;
And a submarine ship was never for me;
And the proudest old Hun thus out-reached the fool.
But behold, you elect, a nigger and a mule,