We have done enough of rolling and of pitching, O!
Up the foremast, up the hindmast, in the musty hold below,
While the bellowing boatswain shouted his eternal “Yo heave ho!”
Let us take an oath and keep it, with an open eye,
In the land of the Tobacco still to live and lie,
On the bank, like pigs together, you and also I;
For they lie beside each other, and the slops are hurled
All around them in the gutter, while their tails are tightly curled
All around them—glad and happy, in a glad and happy world;
There they smile in comfort, dreaming over future joys,