And he shook his fist and he tore his hair, Till I really felt afraid, For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking, And so I simply said:—
"O elderly man, it 's little I know Of the duties of men of the sea, And I'll eat my hand if I understand How you can possibly be
"At once a cook and a captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig!"
Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which Is a trick all seamen larn, And having got rid of a thumping quid He spun this painful yarn:—
"'T was in the good ship Nancy Bell That we sailed to the Indian sea, And there on a reef we come to grief, Which has often occurred to me.
"And pretty nigh all o' the crew was drowned (There was seventy-seven o' soul); And only ten of the Nancy's men Said 'Here' to the muster-roll.
"There was me, and the cook, and the captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And the bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig.
"For a month we 'd neither wittles nor drink, Till a-hungry we did feel, So we drawed a lot, and accordin', shot The captain for our meal.
"The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate, And a delicate dish he made; Then our appetite with the midshipmite We seven survivors stayed.
"And then we murdered the bo'sun tight, And he much resembled pig; Then we wittled free, did the cook and me, On the crew of the captain's gig.