DECEMBER, 1842
(Founded on fact.)

          Captain Mack,
          Cracker Jack,
"Here's to you, here's to me." That's the toast
          On that dandy clipper rig,
          The "Somers," a neat brig.
We are off for the African coast.
          Sing he! ho!
          Off we go!

          The little middy Phil
          And secretary Bill
Clung to the cross-tree span
          Well up out of hearing.
          Philip whispered leering,
"Mate, dare you kill a man
          If it pays enough?"
          "Come, I call the bluff."

          The middy continued
          The black cat of sin mewed.
It perched on the capstan and purred,
          Its tail and its back up,
          Deep murmurings crack up
The plot. The Scribe Billy demurred,
          Showed his surprise.
          Pussy blinked, wise.

          The brig tossed its head.
          The very old Ned
Through each plank and beam in the hulks
          Plays havoc and tag
          And nothing can gag
The Spectre. Dark mutiny skulks,
          The very old Nick
          Delivers his kick.

          The Midshipman Phil,
          His hands on the frill
Of his neck cloth, looked ugly and black.
          He hissed through his teeth,
          "Hush! th' Captain's beneath,
Avast! douse it, all clear the track
          Mum's the word."
          The cat purred.

          The brig ploughed its way,
          Bright, lively and gay.
The Midshipman slobbers his deck broth;
          He clutches his digits
          And nervously fidgets.
The fringe of his black satin neck cloth,
          Mysterious tie.
          Anon, bye and bye.

          The topman, Pete Small,
          Poor weakling, he'll fall,
Slack baked, somewhat foxy, but giddy.
          Cromwell, the mate,
          Worthless ingrate,
Soon bowed to the wiles of the middy.
          Treason is chronic,
          Wicked, sardonic.

          The cook stole an axe
          From off the port racks
And thrust it down deep in his togging.
          One young sailor laddie
          Concealed in a caddy
The marlin spike. Next came a flogging.
          The crew liked the show.
          The cat howled, "Woe! woe! "

          The middy won through,
          Corrupted the crew,
Concocted the scheme, got his hunch.
          Of honour bereft,
          He played his cards deft,
And soon undermined the whole bunch,
          That crooked vile bunch.
          The black cat said, "Crunch."

          The Captain felt pesky,
          He sat at his desk. He
Suddenly starts as the bin creaks.
          Down through the hatchway,
          Like the bright patch gay,
Smirking, his private scribe in sneaks,
          Mysterious mien
          As ever was seen.

          The scribe said, "Tot rot.
          Unearthed! a hot plot
Concocted by Philip the middy,
          Who says with one clip
          He'll gobble this ship."
The Captain howled out, "Really, did he?
          Did he not reck?
          All hands up on deck."

          The bosun's pipe squeals,
          The forecastle reels,
The crew soon collect, tension tightened.
          They eye one another,
          Suspecting each brother,
All guiltily trembling, frightened.
          Anxious, perplexed.
          What will come next?

          The Captain spurts out:
          "My men, a great doubt
Presents itself flat, quite a riddle
          Which Philip can solve.
          I fear 'twill involve
And fry many more on the griddle,
          Wasting good rope per.
          Out with the dope, sir.

          The neck cloth untied,
          With scrutiny eyed.
The case is as plain as your face.
          The Captain yelled out
          "Step lively about.
The rope! make a noose, fetch a brace.
          Foxy lout,
Spit it out."

          Inside the tie wound
          This paper was found
(Oh, wretched man! short sighted, vain).
          The name of each plotter.
          No flexible blotter
Can ever erase the foul stain.
          Oh, poor wretched sinners,
          Confirmed gibbet winners.

          How very entrancing
          Three forms dangle dancing
The foxtrot on nothing but air.
          Such heaving of lungs
          Protruding of tongues,
How charming, esthetic, so rare!
          The black cat now shook
          His head. Get the hook.

          The mutiny over
          All hands safe in clover,
Three canvas bags lay on one plank,
          The Captain said, "Go it,
          Quick, hurry up, stow it."
There! splash, out of sight all three sank.
          One handful of bubbles
          Have ended all troubles.

All ready, boys, hip!
Stand steady, cheer ship.
With freedom we now ply the wave.
Next week we will sight
Dear Sandy Hook light
The land of the free and the brave.
          All cheer Captain Mack
The brave Cracker Jack.

Prev Next