He thinks that if he lived ashore
He'd die. But this is just a notion.
Still when the Captain comes to port
With barrels of oil from whales caught napping,
He'll pace the deck, and loudly snort,
"This land air is my strength a-sapping.
"I call this living on hard terms;
I wish that I had never seen land;
I wish I were a-chasing sperms
Abaft the nor'east coast of Greenland."
Yet on his latest cruise, 'tween whales
The Captain wrote a book most charming.
It's called--and it is having sales--
"Some Practical Advice on Farming."
T.H. SMITH
Tom Henry Smith I long have known
Although he really is a hermit--
At least, Tom Henry lives alone,
And that's what people always term it.
Tom Henry never is annoyed
By fashion's change. He wears a collar
Constructed out of celluloid.
His hats ne'er cost above a dollar.
Tom loves about his room to mess,
And cook a sausage at the fireplace.
It doesn't serve to help his dress--
Grease spatters over the entire place.
Tom Henry likes to read a book,
And writes a little for the papers,
But scarcely ever leaves his nook,
And takes no part in social capers.
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