by Wallace Irwin Old Capting Pink of The ‘Peppermint’, though kindly at heart and good, Had a blunt, bluff way of a-gittin’ ‘is say that we all of us understood. When he brained a man with a pingle spike or plastered a seaman flat, We should ‘a’ been blowed, but we all of us knowed that he didn’t mean nothin’ by that. For Capting Pink was a bashful man and leary of talk as death, So he easily saw that a crack in the jaw was better than wastin’ his breath. Sometimes he’d stroll from the ostrich hatch jest a-feelin’ a trifle rum, Then he’d hang us tars to the masts and spars by a heel or an ear or a thumb. When he done like that, as he oft times did, we winked at each other and smole, And we snickered in glee and says, says we, “Ain’t that like a dear old soul.” I was wonderful fond of Capting Pink, and Pink he was fond of me, (As he frequently said when he battered my head or sousled me into the sea). When he sewed the carpenter up in a sack, and fired the cook from a gun, We’d a-thunked that ‘is rule was a little mite crool if we hadn’t knowed Pink as we done. Old Capting Pink of the ‘Peppermint’, we all of us loved him so, That we waited one night till the tide was right and the funnels were set for a blow. Then we hauled ‘im out of his feather bed and hammered the dear old bloke, And he understood, (as we knowed he would) that we done what we did as a joke. Then we roguishly tumbled ‘im over the side, and quickly reversin’ the screws, We hurried away to Mehitabel Bay for a jolly piratical cruise. Old Capting Pink off the ‘Peppermint - I’m shocked and I’m pained to say, That there’s few you’ll find of the Capting’s kind in this here degenerate day.
The end