And her day come at last—
The Movastar was a better boat,
But the Belle she wouldn’t be passed,
And so she come tearin’ along that night—
The oldest craft on the line—
With a nigger squat on her safety-valve,
And her furnace crammed, rosin and pine.
A fire burst out as she cl’ared the bar,
And burnt a hole in the night,
And quick as a flash she turned, and made