Bones, A.B. Is Reminded Poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

Men of the sea (said Bones, A.B.)
Is touchy coves and curious,
They stands a lot, till some dark plot
Gets 'em all hot an' furious.
Tricks with their food brings on a mood
That's apt to be real shirty.
That's how come we once struck at sea
In days when ways was dirty
Them blastin', blazin', hazin' days
When ships an' seas was dirty.

We was 'Frisco bound in a ship ill-found
An' scarce a sound plank in 'er,
Wheh cook speaks free, an' he says, says he:
'There's no plum-duff for dinner!'
'Wot? No plum-duff?' we answers gruff
An' snarky like, an' surly.
'Avast!' says we. 'We'll strike at sea
Till we gets it, late or early
Down marlinspikes! The whole crew strikes!
For we likes duff late an' early.'

The old man, he don't seem to be
No ways put out about it.
'Plum-duff?' he purrs. 'Why, sure, good sirs,
You'll get some, never doubt it.'
An', cold an' hot, 'twas duff we got
An' nothin' else thereafter.
'Wot? Had enough? You swabs, you stuff!'
The skipper roars wi' laughter.
Nought else will come. Eat some, you scum!
Wot? Sick? Excuse my laughter!'

Men of the sea (said Bones, A.B.)
Is proud an' supercilious.
But that don't do, not when a crew
Grows pasty-faced an' bilious.
Whe we bore down on 'Frisco town
A sick crew 'twas wot landed
An' skipper says: 'Now, go yer ways,
An' say I ain't free-'anded!
You strikin', bluffin', puddin'-stuffin' sweeps,
Say I'm mean-'anded!
You loafin', leerin', mutineerin' mutts,
I 'opes yer stranded!'