E’en he who smote his officer
For punishment was booked,
And mutinies upon the seas
He rarely overlooked.
In short, the happy Mantelpiece,
Where all had gone so well,
Beneath that fool Sir Berkely’s rule
Became a floating hell.
When first Sir Berkely came aboard
He read a speech to all,
And told them how he’d made a vow
To act on duty’s call.
Then William Lee, he up and said
(The Captain’s coxswain he),
“We’ve heard the speech your honour’s made,
And werry pleased we be.
“We won’t pretend, my lad, as how
We’re glad to lose our Reece;
Urbane, polite, he suited quite
The saucy Mantelpiece.
“But if your honour gives your mind
To study all our ways,
With dance and song we’ll jog along
As in those happy days.
“I like your honour’s looks, and feel
You’re worthy of your sword.
Your hand, my lad—I’m doosid glad
To welcome you aboard!”
Sir Berkely looked amazed, as though
He didn’t understand.
“Don’t shake your head,” good William said,
“It is an honest hand.
“It’s grasped a better hand than yourn—
Come, gov’nor, I insist!”
The Captain stared—the coxswain glared—
The hand became a fist!
“Down, upstart!” said the hardy salt;
But Berkely dodged his aim,
And made him go in chains below:
The seamen murmured “Shame!”