[[Listen]]
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I'm called little Buttercup, Dear little Buttercup, Though I could never tell why, But still I'm called Buttercup, Poor little Buttercup, Sweet little Buttercup I. I've snuff and tobaccy, And excellent jacky; I've scissors and watches and knives. I've ribbons and laces To set off the faces Of pretty young sweethearts and wives. I've treacle and toffee, I've tea and I've coffee, Soft tommy and succulent chops, I've chickens and conies, I've pretty polonies, And excellent peppermint drops— |
which would imply that Little Buttercup might supply on demand anything from a wrought-iron gate to a paper of toothpicks.
"Well, Little Buttercup, you're the rosiest and roundest beauty in all the navy, and we're always glad to see you."
"The rosiest and roundest, eh? Did it ever occur to you that beneath my gay exterior a fearful tragedy may be brewing?" she asks in her most mysterious tones.
"We never thought of that," the Boatswain reflects.
"I have thought of it often," a growling voice interrupts, and everybody looks up to see Dick Deadeye. Dick is a darling, if appearances count. He was named Deadeye because he had a dead-eye, and he is about as sinister and ominous a creature as ever made a comic opera shiver.
"You look as if you had often thought of it," somebody retorts, as all move away from him in a manner which shows Dick to be no favourite.