Madame Eulalie’s Rare Plums

WHEN o’er the foaming waves you pass,
Ye Russian tars, be wary.
Avoid the over-frequent glass
(So bad for Little Mary).
Let not all vessels which you spy
Within a mile of your ships,
Appear to your excited eye
Insidious foreign warships.

And if the look-out men by chance,
After some festive spree, doze,
And gather from a hasty glance
That fish are fish-torpedoes,
Eschew the Maxim’s leaden hail,
With shells to follow after:
That merry jest is growing stale.
And causes little laughter.

And thus, when you have crossed the seas
And never made one widow,
And when you don’t for damages
A solitary quid owe,
Then see what comes of being good:
At peace with all your neighbours,
A glow of conscious rectitude
Will sweeten all your labours.