With my cutlass in my hand
On the quarterdeck I’d stand
And to deeds of heroism I’d incite my pirut band—
If I darst; but I darsen’t.
And, if I darst, I’d lick my pa for the times that he’s licked me,
I’d lick my brother an’ my teacher, too,
I’d lick the fellers that call round on sister after tea,
An’ I’d keep on lickin’ folks till I got through.
You bet. I’d run away
From my lessons to my play,