Come on my curly party. I'll be frank!
Why should I mount the bridge where Amos stank
And suffered? A pox on the vice of beds.
Give me a sunflower and I'll chop their heads.
(That's where the chicken got the chopper, lad.
Upon his curly sunflower discus pat.)
Now look you beagles when the bugles blow
And the waves splash, with harriers below
Seek shelter in the bowels of the ship,
And hunt the Snark for the remainder of the trip
There's safety in numbers. Never forget when aft
To clamour for Spratt's Biscuits and a raft.
— Rats leave the sinking ship. The rats and you
Breasting those sterner waters, when it blew
A polar gale, will up with both your tails
And paddle off. (Rat-hunters through the gales
Fraternize rodents. There's great safety in
Numbers, and repulse the darkling fin
Up mammals ! when confronted with a fish.
— The Thought is but the bastard of the Wish.)
Come now my curly griffin and be friends.
Show me the Rubber Stamp. I'll make amends.
What's Bellerophon to me or I to him —
To Hecuba, to Troy's deep-chested cream
Of luckless warriors. What to me the scent
Of battle? Of the first Paris frowning sent?