But “Darny,” sez I, “if that’s your game,
I reck’n I must kill ee fust.”
The Master jumped ’bout the French ship
And tore down all her colours,
And us jumped ’bout the French ship, too,
A whoppin’ them foreign fellers.
As for the chap as Master threat’n’d
I beat that Parley-vous,
From the niddick down his lanky back,
Till he squeaked out “Mortbleu!”