First was a groan of misery, And then a scythe of pain; And a voice which wailed: “Oh where is the Sea? Which I never shall see again?” And I thought that party must be cracked, Or a little over the bay; Because the water was not, in fact, A half of a mile away. So I looked that sufferin’ mortal up, And found, sufficiently soon, A man who looked like a perishin’ pup, As he lay in the light of the moon. And I said to him, “Matey, just confess What all of this row’s about, And what was it got you into this mess, And how can I get you out?” Then this man he opened his eyes so wide: “No more do I ask of thee Than to carry me down to the water’s side, And chuck me right into the sea.” And I says, “’Tis a singular thing to ask, But I think it can be no sin, And anyhow ’tis an easy task To carry and pitch you in.” So I picked that perishin’ person up, And slewed him on my back, And he wriggled and moved with many a flup Like a codfish or a jack. But when I had carried him half the way, He seemed to be half-way done, And when we had got ’longside of the bay, I guessed that his life was gone. But when he heard the water splash, He opened his eyes—you bet! And said: “If you only will make a dash— Good Lord! there’s a chance for me yet!” And when we came to the water’s edge, I never a word did say, But carried him right to the end of the Ledge, And dumped him into the Bay. And then he gin a yell of delight, And then he warbled a tune, As he swam about in the water bright, All there in the light of the moon. And he hollered to me his partin’ thanks, And said: “I am outer my pain; Good-bye! I’m off for the ’Foundland Banks; Some day we shall meet again.” Now when a year had passed I found Myself in a Southern sea, A-wrecked; for all on board were drowned, And nobody saved but me. And as I sat upon the turf, And looked at the water blue, A man came walking out of the surf, And says to me: “How do you do? “I think you don’t remember me, Allow me to let you know I’m the fellow that you threw into the sea— In New York—a year ago. “My home is down in the Ocean deep, And sometimes—would you think? I go ashore when men are asleep To a tavern to take a drink. “My mother was a mermaid fair, She lived down in the sea; And my father he was a Dutch sailór, So it came that I am what I be. “And I can walk about on land Until my clothes are dry, But that brings up to the end of my sand, For then I must surely die: “And my soul sail off for Doldrum Isle, Unless some one pities my pain, And carries me down where the waters bile, And puts me in ’em again. “One turn deserves another, ahoy! And John must settle with Jack; You treated me like a brother, old boy And now I will pay you back.