Rolled those grindstones down pell-mell,
And every stone smashed through the shell
Of the pirate zebec, and down it went,
And all of the rascals to doom were sent,
While Orasmus Nute leaned over the side,
“No thanks, thee’rt welcome, my friends,” he
cried.
It chanced one wretch from the sunken craft
Made a clutch at a rope that was trailing aft,
And up he was swarming with frantic hope,