Sit down and I'll sing you a ditty
'Bout the time I was out on the Dan
Maurice Crotty was one of our sailors
A comical cure of a man.
He could spin out a yarn by the hour,
And lies he could tell by the score,
And when Crotty would kick up a ditty
All hands in her galley would roar.
The captain sang out one fine morning,
"Come, Crotty, your trick at the wheel."
Well, he shook like a mouse in a skillet
So timid and nervous did feel.
We struck the whitecoats the next morning,
It was over the side every man
With his gaff and his bat on his shoulder
As we copied over each pan.
And Maurice, a half-mile behind us,
He was catchin' all kinds of queer frills
He was bowin' and scrapin' on tiptoe
Like a man in a set of quadrilles.
Comin' home, 'bout a mile from the steamer,
We saw Maurice stripped off for a bout
And the big old dog hood with his flippers
Was stretchin' him out every clout.
"Well, I challenged him fair," said poor Maurice,
For a fight he before me does stand,
But he took a mean dirty advantage
And he hit me with rocks in his hand."
Well, we backed him in turn to the steamer
And tucked him up snugly in bed:
Next morning, he came to his senses,
He called me aside and he said,
"Well, he musta got drunk from the liquor,
Or else he woulda beat me to death,
For I'm certain he had a nice jag
And I got the smell of Old Tom from his breath."