The Bab Ballads. William Schwenck Gilbert

      “Of one alone I nightly dream,

      An able mariner is he,

      And gaily serves the Gen’ral Steam-

      Boat Navigation Companee.

      I’ll marry him, if he but will—

      His name, I rather think, is BILL.

      “I see him when he’s not aware,

      Upon our hospitable coast,

      Reclining with an easy air

      Upon the Port against a post,

      A-thinking of, I’ll dare to say,

      His native Chelsea far away!”

      “Oh, mon!” exclaimed the Customs bold,

      “Mes yeux!” he said (which means “my eye”)

      “Oh, chère!” he also cried, I’m told,

      “Par Jove,” he added, with a sigh.

      “Oh, mon! oh, chère! mes yeux! par Jove!

      Je n’aime pas cet enticing cove!”

      The Panther’s captain stood hard by,

      He was a man of morals strict

      If e’er a sailor winked his eye,

      Straightway he had that sailor licked,

      Mast-headed all (such was his code)