Or talk to small brown girls with nothing on....
Again, they tell of Rovers, from Sallee,
With pistols in their belts, who cry “Hands Up!”
But get a punch on the nose from British boys,
Who steal their long feluccas with tall sails,
And go adventuring through the burning blue,
And meet a flight of porpoises and a dolphin,
And make an island (as the daylight fades)
Which has a fierce volcano in her midst
And a little white port, with clustering white houses,