“That bill o’ fare,” cried Abner Chapin, loud, “Is pitched too high for this here Northern crowd: New England rum, I spose, seems rather meek ’Longside peach-brandy down in Chesapeake. I don’t de-cry your vittles, by no means, But I prefer a pot of pork and beans To all the canvas-backs that ever flew, With soft-shell crabs and reed birds thereunto. And all burnt offerins of fries of lambs Ain’t worth a dish of good Rhode Island clams; And all your Spanish mackerel, my man, Worth one good mackerel caught off Cape Ann!” “Talkin’ of mackerel”—Here Peter Young Broke off this sermon with the “Mackerel Song.” MACKEREL SIGNS Mackerel clouds and mares’ tails A-sailing, a-trailing, Make lofty ships carry low sails A-sailing, a-trailing away. When the mack’rel are in the sky, A-sailing, a-trailing; Soon the wind will be blowing high: A-sailing and trailing away. When the mack’rel shine in the moon, A-sailing, a-trailing; Then the wind will begin to tune: A-sailing, a-trailing away. Of all the wind upon the seas, A-sailing, a-trailing; The best is an evening mackerel breeze: A-sailing and trailing away. “A mackerel is a sailor-dish,” Said Jones, “for ’tis a sailor fish, All drest, like us, in white and blue, Which I do call the prettiest hue Which the great heaven has to show Of all the colours in the bow: So, if you please, I’ll sing to you A little song about the Blue!” TRUE BLUE Blue is the sea we sail on, And blue is the sky above, And blue are the eyes As sea or skies Of the maiden whom I love: And blue is the flag we’re under, And blue is the coat I wear; But brighter the blue, And deeper the hue In the eyes which I hold so dear! Bluer and brighter and sweeter, Fonder and fair and as true; Oh it’s blue love and true love for ever! And God bless the beautiful blue! Now supper being over, every man Lighted his pipe or called for a cigar, Lolled in his chair—and all again began To order “something lively” from the bar. Jack Saltonstall, intent on keeping peace, Waved a great South Sea club, and said, “I’m sent By Providence to act as your police;” And at the table sat as President. He was a man of pleasing dignity, And all allowed he would a captain be, Calming all quarrels with a word and wink; He had hot rum and lemon for his drink. And as he sat in state, with the club of peace Which he had taken from the chimney-piece, He said to us: “What tales this bat could tell Of many a battle—many a busted shell, And murdered victims by the surfy shore, And cani-bally feasts when all was o’er!”