Is contractor for all our dust.

He saw a sailor mixing his grog,

And he marked him out for slaughter;

For on water he scarcely had cared for Death,

And never on rum-and-water.

Death saw two players playing at cards,

But the game wasn't worth a dump,

For he quickly laid them flat with a spade,

To wait for the final trump!

[A SAILOR'S APOLOGY FOR BOW-LEGS.]