A Captain bold, of British birth, might bless his stars and garters,
That if he must be wrecked at all, it should be near home quarters;
But Britons' conscience smites them when we hear of lives lost daily
For want of—some electric wires! So says stout ROBERT BAYLY.
Ah, BOB BAYLY! Importunate BOB BAYLY!
At night, when he retires to rest, is BULL, the brave and clever,
Troubled with thoughts of Jack Tars lost for want of care? No, never.
But sure, JOHN's nightcap would wag wild, his ruddy cheek wax palely,
If he only realised the tale as told by Mr. BAYLY.
Ah, R. BAYLY! Importunate R. BAYLY!