The Tale of the Nancy Bell

By W.S. Gilbert

'Twas on the shores that 'round our coast

From Deal to Ramsgate span,

That I found alone on a piece of stone

An elderly naval man;

His hair was weedy, his beard was long,

And weedy and long was he;

And I heard this wight on the shore recite

In a singular minor key:

"Oh, I am a cook, and a captain bold,

And the mate of the Nancy brig,

And a bosun tight, and a midship mite,

And the crew of the captain's gig!"

And he shook his fist, and he tore his hair,

Till I really felt afraid,

But I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking,

And so I simply said,

"Oh, elderly man, 'tis little I know

Of the ways of men of the sea;

But I'll eat my hand if I understand

How you can possibly be

"At once a cook and a captain bold

And the mate of the Nancy brig,

And a bosun tight and a midship mite

And the crew of the captain's gig."

Then giving a hitch to his trousers, which

Is a trick all seamen l'arn,

And having got rid of a thumping quid,

He spun this painful yarn:

"'Twas on the good ship Nancy Bell

That we sailed to the Indian Sea,

And there on a reef we come to grief,

Which has often occurred to me;

"And well-nigh all of the crew was lost

(There was seventy-seven o' soul),

And only ten of the Nancy's men

Cried 'here' to the muster-roll:

"There was me and the cook, and the captain bold,

And the mate of the Nancy brig,

And the bosun tight, and a midship mite,

And the crew of the captain's gig.

"For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink,

Till a-hungered we did feel,

So we drawed a lot, and accordin' shot

The captain for our meal.

"The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate,

And a delicate dish he made;

Then our appetite on the midship mite

We seven survivors stayed.

"And next we murdered the bosun tight,

And he much resembled pig.

Then we wittled free, did the cook and me,

On the crew of the captain's gig.

"Till only the cook and me was left,

And the delicate question, 'Which

Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose,

And we argued it out as sich.

"For I loved that cook as a brother, I did,

And the cook, he worshipped me;
But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed

In the other chap's hold, you see.

"'I'll be eat if you dines off me,' says Tom,

And 'That,' says I, 'you'll be.'

'I'll be boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I,

And 'Exactly so!' quoth he.

"'Dear James,' says the cook, 'to murder me

Were a foolish thing to do,

For don't you see that you can't cook me,

While I can--and will--cook you!'

"And he boils the water, and takes the salt

And pepper in portions true

(Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot

And some sage and parsley, too.

"'Come here,' says he, with a proper pride

Which his smiling features tell;

''Twill soothing be, if I let you see

How extremely nice you'll smell!'

"And he stirred it 'round and 'round and 'round,

And he sniffed at the foaming froth,

When I ups with his heels and smothered his squeals

In the scum of the boiling broth.

"And I et that cook in a week or less,

And as I eating be

The last of his chops--why, I nearly drops,

For a wessel in sight I see!

"And I never larf, and I never smile,

And I never lark nor play,

But I sit and croak, and a single joke

I have, which is to say,

"Oh, I am a cook, and a captain bold,

And the mate of the Nancy brig,

And a bosun tight, and a midship mite,

And the crew of the captain's gig."