(The scoundrel fibbed most shamelessly. In truth he only knew A lot of Smiths without a y--a most plebeian crew. His Johnsons used a vulgar h, his Thompsons spelled with p, His Simses had one m, and they were common as could be.) Then Mrs. Jones mussed up her hair and donned her best delaine, And went with Captain Jones aboard the schooner Mary Jane. The pirate won her heart at once by saying, with a smile, He never saw a woman dressed in such exquisite style. The pirate's claim to status she was very sure was just When she noticed how familiarly the Johnsons he discussed. Her aristocratic scruples then were quickly laid aside, And when the pirate sighed at her, reciproc'ly she sighed. No sooner was the newer love within her bosom born Than Jones was looked upon by her with hatred and with scorn. She said 'twas true his ancestor was famous Duke de Jones, But she shuddered to remember that his father dealt in bones. [Illustration] So then they got at Captain Jones and hacked him with a sword, And chopped him into little bits and tossed him overboard. The chaplain read the service, and the captain of the bark Before his widow's weeping eyes was gobbled by a shark. The chaplain turned the prayer-book o'er; the bride took off her glove; They swore to honor, to obey, to cherish and to love. And, freighted full of happiness, across the ocean's foam The schooner glided rapidly toward the pirate's home. And when of ecstasy and joy their hearts could hold no more, That pirate dropped his anchor down and rowed his love ashore. And as they sauntered up the street he gave his bride a poke, And said, "In them there mansions live the friends of whom I spoke." She glanced her eye along the plates of brass upon each door, And then her anger rose as it had never done before. She said, "That Johnson has an h! that Thompson has a p! The Smith that spells without a y is not the Smith for me!" And darkly scowled she then upon that rover of the wave; "False! False!" she shrieked, and spoke of him as "Monster, traitor, slave!" And then she wept and tore her hair, and filled the air with groans, And cursed with bitterness the day she let them chop up Jones. [Illustration] And when she'd spent on him at last the venom of her tongue, She seized her pongee parasol and stabbed him in the lung. A few more energetic jabs were at his heart required, And then this scand'lous buccaneer rolled over and expired. [Illustration] Still brandishing her parasol she sought the pirate boat; She loaded up a gun and jammed her head into its throat; And fixing fast the trigger, with string tied to her toe, She breathed "Mother!" through the touch-hole, and kicked and let her go. [Illustration]