Insulted France! A foolish fancy!
The vanity to which they’re slaves
Fooled them—and kept me from my Nancy.
We sailed about, all round we steered,
’Midst sunshine’s gleam and tempest’s rattle.
No Prime Meridian appeared!
The Conference was still at battle.
The Frenchman still maintained the strife
To please his egotistic fancy,
Kept many a Tar from his true wife,