Was the hand of God alone.
Then all at oncet we heerd a yell
An', down 'cross the willow bank,
A-layin' a course that was skeercely snug,
Came Jakey Dale with his whiskey jug,
As drunk as the mate of a log-raft tug,
An' a-swearin' somethin' rank.
"You rust-chawed fragments o' junk," sez he,
"Now what do you think you've found?
A-standin' 'round on this old bilge tank