"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. "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 sich. "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. "Says 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. [Illustration] "'Come here,' says he, with a 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 grin, and I never smile, And I never larf nor play, But I sit and croak, and a single joke I have--which is to say: "Oh, 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!" [Illustration] GIRL GRADUATES They intend to send a wire To the moon; And they'll set the Thames on fire Very soon; Then they learn to make silk purses With their rigs From the ears of LADY CIRCE'S Piggy-wigs. And weasels at their slumbers They'll trepan; To get sunbeams from cu_cum_bers They've a plan. They've a firmly rooted notion They can cross the Polar Ocean, And they'll find Perpetual Motion If they can! These are the phenomena That every pretty domina Hopes that we shall see At this Universitee!