Be they never so smart they’ve no power to appal,
As with fresh air on deck, and snug comfort below,
Through the holiday waters right onward we go.
Hurrah! then my mates, we may lounge, we may sleep,
Party rancour is hushed, we’re alone on the deep;
Our flag of defiance still waves o’er the sea—
We’re afloat!—we’re afloat! and the Old Man is free.
Funny Folks. September 22, 1883.
Song of the Pickpocket.