In the sea,
Once upon a time,
O my best beloved,
There was a whale,
And he ate fish.
He ate the starfish,
And the garfish,
And the crab and the dab,
And the place and the dace and the skate and his mate,
And the mackerel and the pickerel,
And the really,
Truly,
Twirly,
Whirly eel.
All the fishes he could find in all the sea he ate with his mouth.
Till at last there was only one small fish left in all the sea,
And he was a small,
Stoot fish,
And he swam a little behind the whale's right ear.
So as to be out of harm's way.
Then the whale stood up on his tail and said,
I'm hungry.
And the small,
Stoot fish said,
In a small,
Stoot voice,
Have you ever tasted man?
Why no,
Said the whale,
What is it like?
Nice said the small,
Stoot fish,
Nice but nubbly.
Then fetch me some,
Said the whale,
And he made the sea froth up with his tail.
One at a time is enough,
Said the stoot fish.
If you swim to latitude fifty north,
Longitude forty west,
You will find,
Sitting on a raft,
In the middle of the sea,
With nothing but a pair of blue canvas breeches,
A pair of suspenders,
And a jackknife,
One shipwrecked mariner,
Who is,
It is only fair to tell you,
Is a man of infinite resources.
So the whale swam and swam to latitude fifty north,
Longitude forty west,
And as fast as he could swim,
And on a raft,
In the middle of the sea,
With nothing to wear except a pair of blue canvas breeches,
A pair of suspenders,
And a jackknife,
He found one single,
Solitary shipwrecked mariner,
Trailing his toes in the water.
Then the whale opened his mouth back and back and back till it nearly touched his tail,
And he swallowed the shipwrecked mariner,
And the raft he was sitting on,
And his blue canvas breeches,
And the suspenders,
And the jackknife,
He swallowed them all down into his warm dark inside cupboards,
And then he smacked his lips,
So,
And turned round three times on his tail.
But as soon as the mariner,
Who was a man of infinite resources,
Found himself truly inside the whale's warm dark inside cupboards,
He stumped and he jumped and he thumped and he bumped,
And he pranced and he danced,
And he banged and he clanged,
And he hit and he bit,
And he leaped and he creeped,
And he prowled and he howled,
And he hopped and he dropped and he cried and he sighed,
And he crawled and he bawled and he stepped and he leapt,
And he danced where he shouldn't,
And the whale felt most unhappy indeed.
So he said to the stoopfish,
This man is very nubbly,
And besides he is making me hiccup,
What shall I do?
Well,
Tell him to come out,
Said the stoopfish.
So the whale called down his own throat to the shipwrecked mariner.
Come out and behave yourself.
I've got the hiccups.
Nay nay,
Said the mariner,
Not so,
But far otherwise.
Take me to my natal shore and the white cliffs of Albion,
And I'll think about it.
And he began to dance more than ever.
You'd better take him home,
Said the stoopfish.
I ought to have warned you that he is a man of infinite resources.
So the whale swam and swam and swam,
With both flippers in his tail,
As hard as he could,
For the hiccups,
And at last he saw the mariner's natal shore and the white cliffs of Albion.
And he rushed halfway up the beach and opened his mouth wide and wide and wide and said,
Cheer for Winchester,
Auschlott,
Nashua,
Kean and Stations of the Fitchburg Road.
And just as he said,
Fitch,
The mariner,
Walked out of his mouth.
But while the whale had been swimming,
The mariner,
Who was indeed a person of infinite resources,
Had taken his jackknife and cut up the raft into little square gratings,
All running criss-cross.
And he tied it firm with his suspenders,
And he dragged that grating good and tight into the whale's throat,
And there it stuck.
Then he recited the following sloka,
Which,
As you have not heard it,
Will now proceed to relate.
By means of grating,
I have stopped your aiding.
For the mariner,
He was also a Hibernian,
And he stepped out on the shingle,
And he went home to his mother,
Who had given him leave to trail his toes in the water.
And he married and lived happily ever after.
And so did the whale.
But from that day on,
The grating in his throat,
Which he could neither cough up nor swallow down,
Prevented him from eating anything except very,
Very small fish.
And that is the reason why whales nowadays never eat men,
Or boys,
Or little girls.
The small,
Astute fish went and hid himself in the mud under the door sills of the equator.
He was afraid that when the whale might be angry with him,
The sailor took the jackknife home.
He was wearing the blue canvas breeches when he walked out on the shingle.
The suspenders were left behind,
You see,
To tie the grating with.
And this is the end of that tale.
