I'll allow that in the look of it, the print of it I mean,
That all you say is sarved to us; but is it good or clean?
And wot's wet 'ash, or porridge, or any other stuff,
When at the very best of it there's 'ardly 'arf enough?
Not even with the cockroaches that's given with the stew,
Though I notice they nor maggots wasn't down in yer Menoo.
There's the tea and corfee talked of, but folks ashore ain't told
That the swine as bought it for you winked 'is eye at them as sold.
For sailormen's best Mocha was never further East
Than a bloomin' Essex bean-field; and the tea ain't tea—at least