And bid her keep her distance;
She’d laid her hand upon the place,
That spreads the ensign’s p—s, sir,
Then looking humbly in his face,
Said, “beg your pardon miss—sir.”
CATASTROPHE.
The captain drew his sword, and stood
To bear ’gainst all the brunt, sir,
And said—I mount not guard in rear,
But always in the front, sir;