Here’s Bet and Sue
Who stand here too,
A shivering by my side,
They both are dumb,
They both look glum,
And watch the ebbing tide. 
Poll put her arms a-kimbo,
At the admiral’s house looked she,
To thoughts that were in limbo,
She now a vent gave free. 
You’ve got a turkey I’ll be bound,
With which you will be crammed,
I’ll give you a bit of my mind, old hound,
Port Admiral, you be d——­d.

Chorus.—­I’ll give you a bit of my mind, old hound,
Port Admiral, you be d——­d.

I’m sure that in this weather they cannot cook their meat,
To eat it raw on Christmas-day will be a pleasant treat;
But let us all go home, girls, it’s no use waiting here,
We’ll hope that Christmas-day to come, they will have better cheer.

So Bet and Sue
Don’t stand here too,
A shivering by my side,
Don’t keep so dumb,
Don’t look so glum,
Nor watch the ebbing tide. 
Poll put her arms a-kimbo,
At the admiral’s house looked she,
To thoughts that were in limbo,
She now a vent gave free. 
So while they cut their raw salt junks,
With dainties you’ll be crammed,
Here’s once for all my mind, old hunks,
Port Admiral, you be d——­d.

Chorus.—­So once for all our mind, old hunks,
Port Admiral you be d——­d.

“Mein Gott! but dat is rank mutiny, Mynheer Shemmy Tucks,” observed Corporal Van Spitter, who had come upon the deck unperceived by Jemmy, and had listened to the song.

“Mutiny, is it?” replied Jemmy, “and report this also.

“I’ll give you a bit of my mind, fat thief,
You, corporal, may be d——­d.”

“Dat is better and better—­I mean to say, worser and worser,” replied the corporal.

“Take care I don’t pitch you overboard,” replied Jemmy, in wrath.

“Dat is most worse still,” said the corporal, stalking aft, and leaving Jemmy Ducks to follow up the train of his own thoughts.

Jemmy, who had been roused by the corporal, and felt the snow insinuating itself into the nape of the neck, thought he might as well go down below.

The corporal made his report, and Mr Vanslyperken made his comments, but he did no more, for he was aware that a mere trifle would cause a general mutiny.  The recovery of Snarleyyow consoled him, and little thinking what had been the events of the preceding night, he thought he might as well prove his devotion to the widow, by paying his respects in a snow-storm—­but not in the attire of the day before—­Mr Vanslyperken was too economical for that; so he remained in his long threadbare great-coat and foul-weather hat.  Having first locked up his dog in the cabin, and entrusted the key to the corporal, he went on shore, and presented himself at the widow’s door, which was opened by Babette, who with her person barred entrance:  she did not wait for Vanslyperken to speak first.