Who ran about stamping and crying—
“How! smash, Skipper, what mun a’ dee?”
They all shouted out fra the kee,
Steer her close in by th’ shore;
And then thraw th’ painter to me,
Thou cat feac’d son of a wh—e.
The lad threw the painter ashore,
They fasten’d her up to th’ kee,
But whe knaws how far she meit gane,
Had it not been for little P.D.