The likeliest one of ’em all wus he,
Chipper an’ han’som an’ trim;
But I toss’d up my head, an’ made fun o’ the crowd,
’Spaecially Jim.

I said I hadn’t no ‘pinion o’ men,
And I wouldn’t take stock in him!
But they kep’ up a-comin’ in spite o’ my talk,
’Spaecially Jim.

I got so tired o’ havin’ ’em roun’
(’Spaecially Jim!),
I made up my mind I’d settle down
An’ take up with him;

So we was married one Sunday in church,
’Twas crowded full to the brim,
’Twas the only way to get rid of ’em all,
’Spaecially Jim.

’ARRY’S ANCIENT MARINER.

(TOLD ON MARGATE JETTY.)

BY CAMPBELL RAE-BROWN.

He was an ainshunt mariner
Wot sailed the oshun blue;
His craft it was the Crazy Jane
Wot was made of wood and glue.

It sailed ’atween Westminister
And the Gulf of Timbucktoo;
Its bulkhead was a putty one;
Its cargo—­no one knew.

I’ve heerd as how when a storm came on
It ’ud turn clean upside down,
But I never could make out as why
Its skipper didn’t drown.

He was the most unwashedest
Old salt I ever knowed: 
And all the things as he speaked about
Was nearly always “blowed.”

One day he told me a straw’nry tale,
But I don’t think it were lies,
Bekos he swore as it was true—­
Tho’ a big ’un as to size.

He sez as how in the Biskey Bay
They was sailin’ along one night,
When a summat rose from the bilin’ waves
As give him a norful fright.

He wouldn’t exzagerate, he sed—­
No, he wouldn’t, not if he died;
But the head of that monster was most as big
As a bloomin’ mountain-side.

Its eyes was ten times bigger ’an the moon;
Its ears was as long as a street;
And each of its eyelids—­without tellin’ lies—­
Would have kivered an or’nary sheet.

“And now,” said he, “may I never speak agin
If I’m a-tellin’ yer wrong,
But the length o’ that sarpint from head to tail
Warn’t a ninch under ten mile long,

“To the end of its tail there hung a great wale,
And a-ridin’ on its back was sharks;
On the top of its head about two hundred seals
Was a-havin’ no end of larks.

“Now, as to beleevin’ of what I sez next
Yer can do as yer likes,” sez he;
“But this ’ere sarpint, or whatever he was,
He ups and he speaks to me.

“Sez the sarpint, sez he, in a voice like a clap
Of thunder, or a cannon’s roar: 
’Now say good-bye to the air and the sky
For you’ll never see land no more.’

“I shivered like a sail wot’s struck by a gale
And I downs on my bended knees;
And the tears rolls over my face like a sea,
And I shrieks like a gull in a breeze.

“Sez I, ’I’m an ainshunt old skipper, that’s all,
And I ain’t never done nuffin wrong.’ 
He sez, ’You old lubber, just stow that blubber,
I’m a-going fer to haul yer along.’