It blew great guns when Sammy Snooks
Mounted the rolling paddles;
He met the mate with fearful looks--
They shook each other's daddles.
The word was given to let go,
The funnel gave a screamer,
The stoker whistled from below,
And off she goes, blow high, blow low,
The _Atalanta_ steamer.
His native Hungerford he leaves,
His Poll of Pedlar's Acre,
Who now ashore in silence grieves
Because he did not take her.
There's a collision fore and aft;
Against the pier they squeeze her.
"Up boys, and save the precious craft,
We from the station shall be chaff'd--
Ho--back her--stop her--ease her."
Aha! the gallant vessel rights,
She goes just where they want her;
She nears at last the Lambeth lights,
The trim-built _Atalantar_.
Sam Snooks his messmates calls around;
He speaks of Poll and beauty:
When suddenly a grating sound
Tells them the vessel's run aground
While they forgot their duty.