They 'ad another drop of ale, and ale made Sam Small drowsy,
So 'e sat down and said, "Bah goom, I'm feeling pretty bad."
Then, "All ashore that's going ashore," they 'eard the purser call,
And all the visitors got off, except our friend Sam Small.

When, they arrived at Plymouth Rock, a Pilgrim called the roll,
And seeing Sam Small's name not there, 'e said, "Lord bless my soul!
Are you the Mayflower's mascot, or perhaps the Captain's pet?"
Sam said, "I am a sojer, and my stomach is upset."

The Pilgrim father said, "Too bad your stomach's out of whack,
You came here as a stowaway; we've got to send you back."
Sam Small stood thunderstruck, 'is face turned greener than a pea.
"I don't mind going back," 'e said, "but must I go by sea?"
  The Pilgrim father said, "But there's no other way to go,
Airships won't be invented for three 'undred years or so,
There isn't any tunnel, and you cannot go by rail,
So, back you go by sea, my lad... get on, you're setting sail."

So Sam set sail; as soon as they were out of sight of land
The one thing Sam could keep upon 'is stomach was 'is 'and.
They pitched and tossed, and Sam thought things 'e never learned at school,
And after seven weeks or so, they docked at Liverpool.

Then Sam walked down the gangplank, light of heart at reaching shore
And 'e 'oped 'e'd never 'ave to see the ocean any more.
A gentleman in blue stepped up. "Are you Sam Small?" 'e said.
"Wot's left of me is Sam," said Sam, "but most of me is dead."
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