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Junior Birdsman

 Up in the air junior birdman,
Up in the air upside down,
Up in the air junior birdman,
Keep your noses off the ground.

When you hear the grand announcement,
that your wings are made of tin,
Then you know that Junior Birdman,
has turned his box tops in.

For it takes:
5 box tops,
4 bottle bottoms,
3 coupons,
2 wrappers,
and one thin dime!

Jack Was Every Inch A Sailor

 Now, ’twas twenty-five or thirty years since Jack first saw the light.
He came into this world of woe one dark and stormy night.
He was born on board his father’s ship as she was lying to,
‘Bout twenty-five or thirty miles south-east of Bacalieu.

Jack was ev’ry inch a sailor,
Five and twenty years a whaler.
Jack was ev’ry inch a sailor;
He was born upon the bright blue sea.

When Jack grew up to be a man, he went to Labrador.
He fished in Indian harbour where his father fished before.
On his returning in the fog, he met a heavy gale,
And Jack was swept into the sea and swallowed by a whale.


The whale went straight for Baffin’s Bay ’bout ninety knots an hour,
And ev’ry time he’d blow a spray, he’d send it in a shower.
“Oh, now,” says Jack unto himself, “I must see what he’s about.”
He caught the whale all by the tail and turned him inside out.


Squid-Jiggin’ Ground

Oh! this is the place where the fishermen gather,
With oilskins and boots, and Cape Anns battened down.
All sizes of figures with squid lines and jiggers,
They congregate here on the squid jiggin’ ground.

Some are workin’ their jiggers while others are yarnin’,
There’s some standin’ up and some more lyin’ down.
While all kinds of fun, jokes and tricks are begun,
As they wait for the squid on the squid jiggin’ ground.

Holy Smoke! what a bustle; all hands are excited,
It’s a wonder to me that nobody is drowned.
There’s a bustle, confusion, a wonderful hussle;
They’re all jiggin’ squid on the squid jiggin’ ground.

There’s poor Uncle Billy, his whiskers are spattered,
With spots of the squid juice that’s flyin’ around.
One poor little boy got it right in the eye;
But they don’t care a hang on the squid-jiggin’ ground.

Now if you ever feel inclined to go squiddin’,
Leave your white shirts and collars behind in the town.
And if you get cranky without a silk hanky,
You’d better steer clear of the squid jiggin’ ground.

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