And ice does not suffice.

'And Sam and me we couldn't agree

With the cook at any price.

We was both as thin as a piece of tin

While that there cook was busting his skin

On nothin' to eat but ice.

[Pg 21]

'Says Sam to me, "It's a mystery

More deep than words can utter;

Whatever we do, here's me an' you,

Us both as thin as Irish stoo,

While he's as fat as butter."

'But late one night we wakes in fright

To see by a pale blue flare,

That cook has got in a phantom pot

A big plum-duff an' a rump-steak hot,

And the guzzlin' wizard is eatin' the lot,

On top of the iceberg bare.'

'There's a verse left out here,' said Bill, stopping the song, 'owin' to the difficulty of explainin' exactly what happened, when me and Sam discovered the deceitful nature of that cook. The next verse is as follows—

'Now Sam an' me can never agree

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