Thanks to Walt......
O Talbot! our Turbot! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every eccles snack, ratter's prize we sought is won;
Whitby is near, mrs O's bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the unsteady keel, the vessel gness's daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of ael,
Where on the deck Talbo's Ben lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
2
O Talbot! our Turbot! rise up and hear mrs O's bells;
Rise up—for you her flag is flung—for you minty's bugle trills;
For you haddock and oily chips—for you the shores an AB-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying Balders and sunnyDave, their drunken faces turning;
Here Talbot! dear Ben's father!
This elastoplaster arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
Ben's fallen cold and dead.
Our Talbot does not answer, his lips are pale and his lisp still;
He doesn't feel his severed arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From such a shoota trip, the victor ship, comes in with a svejk object won;
Exult, O Alba shores, and ring, mrs O's bells!
But I, with prudie tread,
Walk the deck our Talbot lies,
Next to Ben who's fallen cold and dead.