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There's
Skipper Obe, he minds the time
When
swiles came into shore
And
men and boys were towing swiles
For
most two weeks or more.
And
Sam sat on the blubber barrel
Says
times are na'ar bit the same
The
birds don't fly like long ago
When
in the bight they came.
They
used to come in girt big flights
The
turrs and bull birds too
Then
seven eight guns would loudly roar
Then
haste to load anew.
Big
Bill he gets his baccy out
Cuts
off a girt big snog
And
tucks it deep within his cheek
He'd
bet each man a bob
That
fish won't be no price the year
Its
plain as plain can be
Don't
know as I gonna catch arr tail
T'is
lumberwoods vur me.
But
Skipper Si he thinks it will
And
he put out three trawls
The
fish are workin' in again
And
traps are getting' hauls.
The
fish are gone off in the deep
Ar
man can see it plain
They'm
gutted on the caplin, boy
But
they'll come in again.
Jis
wait till they get hungry Garge
Then
they'll eat bait, you see
Big
Bill jis wants to sit and chaw
Don't
give no heed to he.
Now
now, me sons that's na'ar bit sense
T'aint
no good to quarrell
What's
it no? T'is Sam you say
Fell
in the blubber barrel
The
argument it waxes hot
And
when they get in a rage
T'would
fairly singe your whiskers off
Down
Obediah's Stage