And now, my good friends, I've a fine opportunity To obfuscate you all by sea terms with impunity, And talking of "calking," And "quarter-deck walking," "Fore and aft," And "abaft," "Hookers," "barkeys," and "craft," (At which Mr. Poole has so wickedly laughed), Of binnacles--bilboes--the boom call'd the spanker, The best bower-cable--the jib--and sheet-anchor; Of lower-deck guns--and of broadsides and chases, Of taffrails and topsails, and splicing main-braces, And "Shiver my timbers!" and other odd phrases Employ'd by old pilots, with hard-featured faces;-- Of the expletives sea-faring Gentlemen use, The allusions they make to the eyes of their crews;-- How the Sailors, too, swear, How they cherish their hair, And what very long pigtails a great many wear.-- But, Reader, I scorn it--the fact is, I fear, To be candid, I can't make these matters so clear As Marryat, or Cooper, or Captain Chamier, Or Sir E. Lytton Bulwer, who brought up the rear Of the "Nauticals," just at the end of the year Eighteen thirty-nine--(how Time flies!--Oh, dear!)-- With a well-written preface, to make it appear That his play, the "Sea-Captain," 's by no means small beer. There!--"brought up the rear"--you see there's a mistake Which none of the authors I've mentioned would make, I ought to have said, that he "sail'd in their wake."-- So I'll merely observe, as the water grew rougher The more my poor hero continued to suffer, Till the Sailors themselves cried, in pity, "Poor Buffer!"