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White Wings Vol I. Fifty Years Of Sail In The New Zealand Trade, 1850 TO 1900

Salt Horse

Salt Horse.

Salt horse, salt horse, we'd have you know
That to the galley you must go;
The cook without a sign of grief
Will boil you down and call you beef;
And we poor sailors standing near,
Must eat you though you look so queer;
Salt horse, salt horse, what brought you here?