"I was in a hooker once," said Karlssen,"And Bill, as was a seaman, died,So we lashed him in an old tarpaulinAnd tumbled him across the side;And the fun of it was that all his gear wasDivided up among the crewBefore that blushing human error,Our crawling little captain, knew.
"On the passage home one morning(As certain as I prays for grace)There was old Bill's shadder a-haulingAt the weather mizzen-topsail brace.He was all grown green with sea-weed,He was all lashed up and shored;So I says to him, I says, 'Why, Billy!What's a-bringin' of you back aboard?'
"'I'm a-weary of them there mermaids,'Says old Bill's ghost to me;'It ain't no place for a ChristianBelow there--under sea.For it's all blown sand and shipwrecks,And old bones eaten bare,And them cold fishy femalesWith long green weeds for hair.'"
