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And, 1 say, how you'll bless your eyes To see some isle rise and rise
Till each bread-fruit tree You can plainly see And each leaf with its rainbow dyes.
And your old tub won't understand As it rolls and dips to the land,
What mermaids they are That come swimming so far To board her. hand over hand.
But, mate, if I don't mistake, You'll little palaver make
At a South-sea maid
Not being afraid A trip to your deck to take.
Then—then for a snug shore-life, With no fuss of bustle and strife.
Where no thought you give To how you're to live But leave that to your island wife.
No watch—no work to be done, You've just to enjoy the sun, Or lazily rove From grove to grove, Where trouble and want plague none.