Like a pullet in her prime
Clucking softly all the time.
Presently the Captain spied
One small scuttle open wide.
"Cluck!" he said, and likewise. "Tut!

"Every scuttle should be shut;"
And with a malignant snort
Poked his head out through the port.

That was easy, but, alack!
When he tried to get it back
There was heard an angry cluck--
Captain Edwin Peck was stuck!

Strange at first as it appears,
He had overlooked his ears;
But it's not so queer, perhaps,
When you ask, "Have hens got flaps?"

Silence! You'd have heard a pin
Fall upon the deck within,
Till the Bloke was heard to shout,
"Stick it, Sir! We'll get you out!"

Everybody had a go--
Chief, Commander, P.M.O.,
Padre, Carpenter and Stoker,
Using engine-grease and poker,
Hawser, marlin-spike and soap,