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Like Neptune with a leprosy,--
And so it reared upright!
With quaking sails the little boat
Climbed up the foaming heap;
With quaking sails it paused a while,
At balance on the steep;
Then, rushing down the nether slope,
Plunged with a dizzy sweep!
Look, how a horse, made mad with fear,
Disdains his careful guide;
So now the headlong headstrong boat,
Unmanaged, turns aside,
And straight presents her reeling flank
Against the swelling tide !
The gusty wind assaults the sail;
Her ballast lies a-lee !
The sheet 's to windward taut and stiff,
O! the Lively — where is she?
Her capsized keel is in the foam,
Her pennon 's in the sea !
The wild gull, sailing overhead,
Three times beheld emerge
The head of that bold mariner,
And then she screamed his dirge!
For he had sunk within his grave,
Lapped in a shroud of surge!
The ensuing wave, with horrid foam,
Rushed o’er and covered all;
The jolly boatman's drowning scream
Was smothered by the squall,
Heaven never heard his cry, nor did
The ocean heed his caul.

A SAILOR'S APOLOGY FOR BOW-LEGS.
THERE's some is born with their straight legs by natur –
And some is born with bow-legs from the first —
And some that should have growed a good deal straighter,

But they were badly nursed,
And set, you see, like Bacchus, with their pegg

Astride of casks and kegs :
I've got myself a sort of bow to larboard,

And starboard,
And this is what it was that warped my legs.-
’T was all along of Poll, as I may say,
That fouled my cable when I ought to slip;

But on the tenth of May,

When I gets under weigh,
Down there in Hartfordshire, to join my ship,

I sees the mail

Get under sail,
The only one there was to make the trip.

Well — I gives chase,
But as she run

Two knots to one,
There warn't no use in keeping on the race !
Well — casting round about, what next to try on,

And how to spin,
I spies an ensign with a Bloody Lion,
And bears away to leeward for the inn,

Beats round the gable,
And fetches up before the coach-horse stable :
Well — there they stand, four kickers in a row.

And so
I just makes free to cut a brown 'un's cable.
But riding is n't in a seaman's natur –
So I whips out a toughish end of yarn,

And gets a kind of sort of a land-waiter

To splice me, heel to heel,

Under the she-mare's keel,
And off I goes, and leaves the inn a-starn.

My eyes ! how she did pitch !
And would n't keep her own to go in no line,
Though I kept bowsing, bowsing at her bow-line,
But always making lee-way to the ditch,
And yawed her head about all sorts of ways.

The devil sink the craft!
And was n't she trimendous slack in stays !
We could n't, nohow, keep the inn abaft!

Well – I suppose
We had n't run a knot - or much beyond —
(What will you have on it ?) — but off she goes,
Up to her bends in a fresh-water pond !

There I am! - all a-back!
So I looks forward for her bridle-gears,
To heave her head round on the t'other tack:

But when I starts,

The leather parts,
And goes away right over by the ears !

What could a fellow do,
Whose legs, like mine, you know, were in the bilboes
But trim myself upright for bringing-to,
And square his yard-arms, and brace up his elbows,

In rig all snug and clever,
Just while his craft was taking in her water ?
I did n't like my berth, though, howsomedever,
Because the yarn, you see, kept getting tauter,–
Says I-I wish this job was rather shorter!

The chase had gained a mile
Ahead, and still the she-mare stood a-drinking:

Now, all the while Her body did n't take of course to shrinking. Says I, she 's letting out her reefs, I'm thinking –

And so she swelled, and swelled,

And yet the tackle held,
Till both my legs began to bend like winkin.
My eyes! but she took in enough to founder !
And there's my timbers straining every bit,

Ready to split,
And her tarnation hull a-growing rounder !

Well, there — off Hartford Ness,
We lay both lashed and water-logged together,

And can't contrive a signal of distress ;
Thinks I, we must ride out this here foul weather,
Though sick of riding out — and nothing less ;
When, looking round, I sees a man a-starn :-
Hollo! says I, come underneath her quarter ! -
And hands him out my knife to cut the yarn.
So I gets off, and lands upon the road,
And leaves the she-mare to her own consarn,

A-standing by the water. If I get on another, I'll be blowed !And that's the way, you see, my legs got bowed !

THE BACHELOR'S DREAM.
My pipe is lit, my grog is mixed,
My curtains drawn and all is snug;
Old Puss is in her elbow-chair,
And Tray is sitting on the rug..
Last night I had a curious dream,
Miss Susan Bates was Mistress Mogg --
What d'ye think of that, my cat ?
What d’ye think of that, my dog ?

She looked so fair, she sang so well,
I could but woo and she was won;
Myself in blue, the bride in white,
The ring was placed, the deed was done!
Away we went in chaise-and-four,
As fast as grinning boys could flog -
What d'ye think of that, my cat ?
What d'ye think of that, my dog?
What loving tête-à-têtes to come!
But tête-à-têtes must still defer!
When Susan came to live with me,
Her mother came to live with her!
With sister Belle she could n't part,
But all my ties had leave to jog -
What d'ye think of that, my cat ?
What d'ye think of that, my dog?
The mother brought a pretty Poll -
A monkey too, what work he made !
The sister introduced a beau —
My Susan brought a favorite maid.
She had a tabby of her own, -
A snappish mongrel christened Gog, -
What d'ye think of that, my cat ?
What d'ye think of that, my dog ?
The monkey bit — the parrot screamed,
All day the sister strummed and sung;
The petted maid was such a scold!
My Susan learned to use her tongue ;
Her mother had such wretched health,
She sate and croaked like any frog -
What d'ye think of that, my cat ?
What d' ye think of that, my dog?

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