Dan'l and Dunk

Dan'l and Dunk and the yaller dog were the owners and crew of the Pollywog,
A hand-line smack that cuffed the seas'twixt
'Tinicus Head and Point Quahaug.
Dunk owned half and Dan owned half, and the yaller dog was also joint,
They fished and ate and swapped their bait and always agreed on every point.
--Dunk to Dan and Dan to Dunk,--
Whenever he chawed would pass the hunk;
Never a "hitch" more friendly than
That of the dog and Dunk and Dan.
They labored steady and labored square, fairly dividing every fare,
And never could anything break their bonds, each to the other would often swear.
But alas, one day in a joking way they fell on the topic of years and age,
And tackled the subject of boughten teeth, and spirited argument they did wage.
For Dan insisted that sets of teeth were glued to the sides of the wearers' jaws,
--Never had seen 'em, he frankly owned, but he knew 'twas so, "wal, jest because."
While Dunk, with notions fully as firm, clawed at his frosty whisker fringe,
And allowed that he knew that sets of teeth were hitched together with spring and hinge.
So, still perverse, they argued on--the quarrel, you see, was their very first;
'Twas as though they had taken a sip of brine; the more they quaffed, the worse their thirst.
They argued early and argued late and the dog surveyed them with wistful look
For, the more they talked the worse they balked, and forgot to fish or eat or cook.
Dan at Dunk and Dunk at Dan,
--On contention ran and ran,
And rancor spread its sullen fog
'Twixt Dunk and Dan and the yaller dog.
At last old Dunk uprose and cried, "Say old hoss-mack'ril, blast yer hide,
I'm sick of clack and fuss and gab; it's time, I reckin, that we divide.
An' seein' as how I've spoke the fust, I'll take the starn-end here for mine."
With chalk he zoned the dingy deck and roared,
"Git for'rard acrost that line!"
He lighted his pipe and twirled the wheel and calmly then he crossed his knees.
"Go for'rard," said he, "this end is mine an'
I'll steer jest where I gol-durn please."
For'rard went Dan with never a word, never protested, never demurred,
But as soon as he reached the cat-head bolt the sound of hammer on steel was heard.
Splash! went the anchor, and there they swung, fast to the bottom on Doghead shoal;
"The bow-end's mine," yelled Dan to Dunk,
"now steer if ye want to, blast yer soul!"
Dunk to Dan, and Dan to Dunk--
Swore they'd sit there till she sunk.
Neither to compromise would incline,
And the dog stood straddling the middle line.
I'll frankly own I cannot state how long endured that sullen wait,
I only know they never returned and no one ever has learned their fate.
Perhaps a gale with a lashing tail, champing and roaring and frothing wild,
Clawed them tinder, as there they rode, or a hooting liner over them piled.
But known it is that for days and weeks the schooner swayed and sogged and tossed,
Straining her rusty cable-chains, before all trace of her was lost.
No one knows how they met their death, but certain it is that Dunk and Dan,
Each decided he'd rather die than surrender a point to the other man.
Perhaps, at the end of a month or so, Dunk decided he'd sink his half,
Or Dan touched match and burned his end, then went to death with a scornful laugh.
However it was, this much is sure, that out from the Grand Banks' sombre fog,
Never came back the Pollywog smack, or
Dunk or Dan or the yaller dog.