nes!
Why, that's where a seaman who cares for his grog
Perspires how this world isn't square!
If there's _cause_ for a _cow_, if there's _use_ for a _dog_,
By Pope John, there's no _Sense_ in a _Bear!_"

_Chorus:_ Cause for a cow, use for a dog,
By'r Lakin, no _Sense_ in a _Bear!_

But our little ship's chaplain--"Sense," quoth he,
"Hath the Bear tho' his making have none;
For, my little book saith, by the sting of this bee
Would Ursus be wholly foredone,
But, or ever the hive he adventureth nigh
And its crisp gold-crusted dome,
He lardeth his nose and he greaseth his eye
With a piece of an honey-comb."

_Chorus:_ His velvety nose and his sensitive eye
With a piece of an honey-comb.

Black Bill at the word of that golden crust
--For his ears had forgotten the roar,
And his eyes grew soft with their innocent lust--
'Gan licking his lips once more:
"Be it bound like a missal and printed as fair,
With capitals blue and red,
'Tis a lie; for what honey could comfort a bear,
Till the bear win the honey?" he said.

_Chorus:_ "Ay, _whence_ the first honey wherewith the first bear
First larded his nose?" he said.

"Thou first metaphysical bo'sun, Bill,"
Our chaplain quizzingly cried,
"Wilt thou riddle me redes of a dumpling still
With thy 'how came the apple inside'?"
"Nay," answered Bill, "but I quest for truth,
And I find it not on your shelf!
I will face your Hyrcanian bear, forsooth,
And look at his nose myself."

_Chorus:_ For truth, for truth, or a little sweet tooth--
I will into the woods myself.

Breast-high thro' that foam-white ocean of bloom
With its wonderful spokes of gold,
Our sun-burnt crew in the rose-red gloom
Like buccaneer galleons rolled:
Breast-high, breast-high in the lilies we stood,
And before we could say "good-night,"
Out of the valley and into the wood
He plunged thro' the last rich light.

_Chorus:_ Out of the lilies and into the wood,