Here's to the feet wot have walked the plank-
Yo-ho! for the dead man's throttle.
And here's to the corpses afloat in the tank,
And the dead man's teeth in the bottle.

For a pound of gunshot tied to his feet,
And a ragged bit of sail for a winding-sheet;
Then the signal goes with a bang and a flash,
And overboard you go with a horrible splash.

And all that isn't swallowed by the sharks outside,
Stands up again upon its feet upon the running tide
And it keeps a-blowin' gently, and a-lookin' with surprise
At each little crab a-scramblin' from the sockets of its eyes.

<I>Captain Clegg's song</I>