Ker-do’t, ker-do’t,
—And we couldn’t leave, ’cause there wam’t no
bo’t.
So we hung to the pump and we giv’ her Cain,
Though it didn’t seem to be no use.
We thought of the good dry ground in Maine,
And durned the pelt of that old caboose,
Durned the hide of a tops’l tub,
For we never thought we’d see the Hub;
—Got so scart we forgot to thank