And rank bad dis-cip-line both forrard and aft,
A ship that's ill-found and a crew out of 'and,
And a touch-and-go chance she may never reach land,
But go down in a squall or broach to in a sea,
For them drunken skippers—they're the devil," says he.
"And if you go further and pause to admire
A ship that's as neat as your heart could desire,
As smart as a frigate aloft and alow,
Her brasswork like gold and her planking like snow,
Look round for a mate by whose twang it is plain