Page:The Bab Ballads.djvu/89

 "For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink,
 * Till a-hungry we did feel,

So, we drawed a lot, and, accordin' shot,
 * The captain for our meal.

"The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate,
 * And a delicate dish he made;

Then our appetite with the midshipmite
 * We seven survivors stayed.

"And then we murdered the bo'sun tight,
 * And he much resembled pig;

Then we wittled free, did the cook and me,
 * On the crew of the captain's gig.

Then only the cook and me was left,
 * And the delicate question, 'Which

Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose,
 * And we argued it out as sich.

"For I loved that cook as a brother, I did,
 * And the cook he worshipped me;

But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed
 * In the other chap's hold, you see.

"'I'll be eat if you dines off me,' says ,
 * 'Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be,'—

'I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I,
 * And 'Exactly so,' quoth he.