Page:Death of Bill Jones.pdf/5

 For a lazy old dog poor Bill he abus’d.

And he forc’d him aloft to go,

Then their duty to do his limbs they refus’d.

And at length from the ropes his hands he loos’d.

And he fell on the deck below.

Towards him straight the Captain flew,

Crying, Dog dost thou use me so:

And with dev’lish spite his sword he drew,

And he cut Bill Jones quite through and through,

And the blow was a mortal blow.

At the point of death poor Bill now lies,

And he stains the deck with gore,

And fixing his own on his murderer’s eyes.

Captain, dead or alive, he crys,

I never will leave you more.

You wont, saith the Captain, time will show,

If you keep your word or not,

Meantime in the Negroes’ kettle below

Old dog your rascally bones I will throw

And see what fat you have got,

So he ordered the cook to make water hot,

And the corps both flesh and bones

The Captain boil’d in the Negroes’ pot

To see what fat Bill Jones had got,

But there was not much fat on Jones.