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Captain, you have sailed away, And now you rest upon the billows— As unconcerned, I've heard you say, As we who sleep upon our pillows. Beneath your feet the shark may swim, While overhead the petrel screeches, You care no more than Dr. Jim For Burton's or Molteno's speeches.

You heed not though the thunder peals, The lightning's flash, you do not worry— No more the tranquil Doctor feels The ignominious snarls of Currey; The rain may hiss, the billows crash— You slumber, just like him unwitting When Cronwright Schreiner's balderdash Streams down upon the midnight sitting.

I wonder, Captain, why you chose To bid farewell to ease and pleasure, The snug fireside, the soft repose— All that your fellow-mortals treasure? Was it misfortune's icy breath That gave you first the inclination? And did you brave a liquid death Because you dreaded liquidation?