Classic Poem

He was a mournful sailorman,
And his face was lined with grief
As he sat alone on a piece of stone
On a rocky wind-swept reef.

" O Sailorman, " I said to him,
" What means this awful woe?
You sit and sigh on this rock, and cry,
What makest thou weepest so? "

He gave a furtive, fearful look,
And his face grew tense and pale:
Then he gave a groan and in mournful tone
He began this tragic tale:

We was sailin' south o' the Horn (he said)
When we hits a fearful gale,
An' of all the crew there was only two
What survived to tell the tale.

There was only me an' my old pal Bill
Washed up on a sandy beach;
Not a house to see, nor a plant nor a tree,
As far as the eye could reach.

Old Bill was ill with the wet and shock,
He'd a nasty cold in his chest,
An' he says to me, " Old Pal, " says he,
" Please grant this last request.

" I've a missus waitin' for me back home,
An' a couple o' kids, " says Bill,
" An' I feel that I am about to die,
So I want to make my will. "

Then I look for some paper an' pen an' ink,
An' I search my pockets through,
Until Bill says: " Here, I've a swell ideer,
I know what we can do.

" Here's a can o' paint from the wreck, " says he,
" So just take your shirt off, Jack. "
Which, I does, an' Bill tattoos his will
With a shell upon my back.

In an hour or so poor Bill had croaked,
An' I sat alone an' cried,
Until late next day 'bout a mile away
A sailing ship I spied.

They picked me up an' they brung me home,
An' I hands in my report,
Then some lawyer guy comes and says that I
Gotta file that will in court.

Now I don't know much about law and such,
But it got me awful riled
When a pale-faced gink stamped my back with ink,
An' then said: " This will is filed. "

Then they carried me out to the filing room,
Though I struggled an' screamed an' wept
When I found myself on a dusty shelf
Where the other wills was kept.

They filed me there with those other wills
In the dust an' the murk an' gloom.
It was black as night, not a ray of light
Ever reached that filing room.

They brought my meals three times a day,
Where I sat on that lonely rack.
Every now and then came some lawyer men
To read what was on my back.

An' there I stayed with them other wills
For maybe a year or more,
Till I get a bright ideer one night,
An' I walk right out the door.

An' now I'm filled with a dreadful fear,
An' I never laugh nor smile,
For they're on my trail, and I'm facing jail
For stealing a will from file.

So I sit alone on this barren reef,
An' I think o' my old pal Bill,
An' I wish that I'd been the one who died,
An' that I'd made him my will.