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good ship's captain, stout Mynheer Van Kock, Is seated in his cabin, occupied In making up his balance-sheet account. He calculates the cargo's price with care, And then the profits likely to accrue. 'The gum is good, the pepper better still; I have three hundred sacks,—and let me see, Three hundred barrels nicely stowed below. I have too gold-dust, and rare ivory, But the merchandise of blacks for slavery Is what is worth the most, ta'en all in all. I have six hundred negroes I acquired By fair exchange,—that is, for almost nought In verity—on Senegal's wild coast. The flesh is firm, the nerves are tough and strong As bowstrings strained: a looker-on may say, Statues my figures are, of moulded bronze. Brandy and gin in barter I have given, And beads of glass that look like precious pearls, And instruments of steel as bright as sharp. Eight hundred for each hundred shall I gain If but the half alone remain alive. Yes, if there rest for me three hundred souls In Rio Janeiro's port, the well-known firm,