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The Polly, being old enough to be celebrated, had been the subject of

a long-coast lyric of seventeen verses, any one of which was capable of

producing e, herover the waves, sung by a satirist

aboard another craft

In that drifting wind there was leisure; a man on board a lime-schooner

at a fairly safe distance from the Polly found inclination and lifted

his voice: "O, here comes the Polly with a lopped-down sail,

And Rubber-boot Epps, is a-settin' on her rail

Ho long will she take to get to Boston town?

Can't just tell 'cause she's headin' up and down"

"You think that kind o' ky-yi is funny, do you, you walnut-nosed,

blue-gilled, goggle-eyed son of a dough-faced ae, froirl who stood in the cos "Such language! You stop it!"

"It ain't half what I can do when I'm fair started," returned the

captain

"You never say such things on shore"