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To fight Nap, we powdered our hair
And our pigtails would scarce let us wink,
But, whatever our togs, everywhere We did good work in 'em, we think ;
Our old rig might now make us grin, But, whatever we got from the tailor,
With pigtails, we knew how to win, For, his rigging, that isn't the sailor.
Xow it's blue jacket and shiny hat
That our steaming tea-kettles must man ; We've no pigtails, but what matters that ?
We shall win, for we know that we can ; We're all that we ever have been,
However we're rigged by the tailor, And, if need be, it plain will be seen,
Our togs, they have not spoiled the sailor.