The red-coats looked to their priming! And still of a winter's night, they say, She stood up, straight and still! when the wind is in the trees, Away by the haunts of the Yang-tse-boo, Where the Yuletide runs cold gin, And the rollicking sign of the Lord knows Who Sees mariners drink like sin; Where the Jolly Roger tips his quart To the luck of the Union Jack; And some are screwed on the foreign port, And some on the starboard tack;— Ever they tell the tale anew Of the chase for the kipperling swag; 10 How the smack Tommy This and the smack Tommy That They broached each other like a whiskeyvat, And the Fuzzy-Wuz took the bag. |