E.'s book shall prop you up, B.'s shall cover

you,

Here's C. to be grave with, or D. to

be gay,

And with E. on each side, and F. right

over you,

Dry-rot at ease till the Judgment-day!

It is a jolly Mariner,

As ever knew the billows' stir,

Or battled with the gale;

His face is brown, his hair is black, And down his broad gigantic back There hangs a platted tail.

In clusters, as he rolls along,

His tarry mates around him throng, Who know his budget well;

Betwixt Canton and Trinidad

No Sea-Romancer ever had

Such wondrous tales to tell!

Against the mast he leans a-slope,
And thence upon a coil of

rope

Slides down his pitchy "starn; Heaves up a lusty hem or two,

And then at once without ado

Begins to spin his

yarn :

"As from Jamaica we did come, Laden with sugar, fruit, and rum, It blew a heavy gale:

A storm that scar'd the oldest men

For three long days and nights, and then

The wind began to fail.

"Still less and less, till on the mast The sails began to flap at last,

The breezes blew so soft

Just only now and then a puff,

Till soon there was not wind enough To stir the vane aloft.

"No, not a cat's paw anywhere: Hold up your finger in the air You couldn't feel a breath;

For why, in yonder storm that burst, The wind that blew so hard at first Had blown itself to death.

"No cloud aloft to throw a shade; No distant breezy ripple made

The ocean dark below.

No cheering sign of any kind;

The more we whistled for the wind The more it did not blow.

66 The hands were idle, one and all;
No sail to reef against a squall;
No wheel, no steering now!
Nothing to do for man or mate,
But chew their cuds and ruminate,
Just like the Captain's Cow.

Day after day, day after day, Becalm'd the Jolly Planter lay,

As if she had been moor'd:

The sea below, the sky a-top
Fierce blazing down, and not a drop

Of water left aboard!