"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. [Illustration: "FOR DON'T YOU SEE THAT YOU CAN'T COOK ME?"] "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 such. "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 Tom. 'Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be. I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I; And 'Exactly so,' quoth he. "Say he: 'Dear James, to murder me Were a foolish thing to do, For don't you see that you can't cook me, While I can--and will--cook you?' "So he boils the water, and takes the salt And the pepper in portions true (Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot, And some sage and, parsley too. "'Come here,' says he, with proper pride, Which his smiling features tell; "'Twill soothing be if I let you see How extremely nice you'll smell.' "And he stirred it round, and round, and round, And he sniffed at the foaming froth; When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals In the scum of the boiling broth. "And I eat that cook in a week or less, And as I eating be The last of his chops, why I almost drops, For a wessel in sight I see. * * * * * "And I never larf, and I never smile, And I never lark nor play; But I sit and croak, and a single joke I have--which is to say: "O, I am a cook and a captain bold And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig!" KATEY'S LETTER _By_ LADY DUFFERIN Och, girls, did you ever hear I wrote my love a letter? And altho' he cannot read, I thought 'twas all the better. For why should be he puzzled With spellin' in the matter, When the _manin'_ was so plain I loved him faithfully, And he knows it--oh, he knows it-- Without one word from me. I wrote it, and I folded it, And put a seal upon it, 'Twas a seal almost as big As the crown of my best bonnet; For I wouldn't have the postman Make his remarks upon it, As I'd said _inside_ the letter I loved him faithfully, And he knows it--oh, he knows it-- Without one word from me.