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