To get some thread for the skipper's coat
Where the seam of the arm 'ad gone.
"I was driftin' back on the fallin' tide,
And feeling a trifle queer,
When somethin' grated agin the side;
I sat up straight and I scratched my 'ead;
'There ain't no rocks round 'ere,' I said,
'It must 'ave bin all that beer.'
"When suddenly close on my starboard beam,
With scarcely a foot between