An’ we stopped at last’cause there wa’n’t no
room for the mackerel to be stowed.
Then up came a-finnin’ that liverless shark, an’
he showed his stitched-up side,
An’ the look in his eyes was such a look that
the Old Man fairly cried.
We rigged a tackle an’ lowered a noose an’
the shark stuck up his neck,
Then long an’ slow, with a heave yo-ho, we
h’isted him up on deck.