Dan, he's dead, as I used to know
In the ol' Thermopylae years ago;
Nobody'll trouble to fix no stones
Nor plant no plants over ol' Dan's bones,
Nor print no cards with a black edge round,
Nor shove wax flowers atop of 'is mound;
But I reckon there's chaps both near an' far,
In Charley Brown's or the Paragon Bar,
From London River to Hobson's Bay,
As'll set their drinks down a minute an' say: —
"Wot, ol' Dan dead as I used to know
In the Thermopylae long ago
(or the Star o' Greece, or the Heir o' Linne,
Or some other o' them as Dan was in)?
'E was a decent shipmate too,
Darned good shipmate 's ever I knew;
'E earned 'is whack an' 'e earned it straight,
'E stood 'is trick an' 'e pulled 'is weight;
An' I don't think ever I seen the man
Could make long splices the like o' Dan."
Well, I 'ope they'll say when I come to die
As much for me as for Dan, say I!
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