While ’round in a circle, a-cuttin’ the sea, that back-fin whished an’ slished;
An’ we noticed at last he was herdin’ the school an’ drivin’ ’em on our bait,
An’ they bit an’ they bit an’ we pulled ’em in at a reg’lar wholesale rate.
We pulled ’em in till the S’airey Ann was wal- lerin’ with her load,
An’ we stopped at last’cause there wa’n’t no room for the mackerel to be stowed.
Then up came a-finnin’ that liverless shark, an’ he showed his stitched-up side,
An’ the look in his eyes was such a look that the Old Man fairly cried.
We rigged a tackle an’ lowered a noose an’ the shark stuck up his neck,
Then long an’ slow, with a heave yo-ho, we h’isted him up on deck.
The skipper he blubbered an’ grabbed a fin an’ gave it a hearty shake;
Says he, “Old man, don’t lay it up an’ we’ll have a drop to take.”
An’, actin’ by orders, the cook fetched up our kag of good old rum;
The shark he had his drink poured first, an’ all of us then took some.
Still actin’ by orders, the cook he took an’ he picked them stitches out,
An’ we all turned to, an’ we lent a hand;
though of course we had some doubt As to how he’d worn it an’ how’twas hitched, an’ whuther’twas tight or slack,
But as best we could--as we understood--we put that liver back.
Then we sewed him up, an’ we shook his fin an’ we giv’ him another drink,
We h’isted him over the rail ag’in an’ he giv’ us a partin’ wink.
Then he swum away, an’ I dast to say, although he was rather sore,
He felt that he’d started the trouble first, an’ we’d done our best an’ more.
’Cause a dozen times’fore the season closed an’ the mackerel skipped to sea,
He herded a school an’ drove ’em in, as gen- tlemanlike as could be.
We’d toss him a drink, an’ he’d tip a wink, as sociable as ye please,
No kinder nor better-mannered shark has ever swum the seas.
Now, the moral is, if you cut a friend before that you know he’s friend,
An’ after he’s shown it, ye do your best his feelin’s to nicely mend,
He’ll meet ye square, an’ he’ll call you quits, providin’ he’s got a spark Of proper feelin’--at least our crew can vouch this for a shark.
My friend the Whale--my friend the Whale!
There are days when the dog-fish are gnawin’ the bait,
When the brim and the monk-fish and pucker- mouthed skate