Mike

Mike's a Jonah, an out-and-outer As ever signed in a Hebrew spouter; All the kinds of misfortune trail After Mike like a comet's tail. Water failing and watches drowned, Ships dismasted and ships aground, Ships on fire at sea, or drifting On a lee shore with the cargo shifting, Sunken wreckage and rocks and floes, All the worries and all the woes Ever a ship fell foul of yet - Mike's been into 'em all, you bet! His life's packed full of troubles and knocks Like a blooming What-you-may-call-her's box, Stowed in his old sea chest he's got 'em, With hope hid somewhere in the bottom. For come what may and come what will Old Mike he comes up smiling still. Same old, game old, split-face grin You could shove a baked potato in, Same old wrinkling, twinkling eyes, With the look in 'em of mild surprise As if he was thinking, 'Why in thunder Does things turn out this way, I wonder?' And for all he brings you the darnedest luck Of any poor blighter ever you struck, It's rum, a feller can't help but like Mike!