Of the tight little Humming Top.
Higher and higher every day,
In the main top-mast at noon—
(The wedding guest here beat his breast),
Sat the skipper’s pet baboon.
“Heaven help thee ancient mariner!
How got you into the scrape?”
“How did it occur? With my pea-shooter,
I slaughtered the skipper’s ape.”
Shiver my spars, what looks had I