human
Now Sam an' me can never agree What happened to Curry and Rice. The whole affair is shrouded in doubt, For the night was dark and the flare went out, And all we heard was a startled shout, Though I think meself, in the subsequent rout, That us bein' thin, an' him bein' stout, In the middle of pushin' an' shovin' about, He--MUST HAVE FELL OFF THE ICE.
gpt
That won't do, you know, began the Puddin', but Sam said hurriedly,
human
It was very dark, and there's no sayin' at this date what happened.
gpt
Yes there is, said the Puddin',
human
In the haste of the moment, said Bill,
gpt
said Bill, patting him on the basin,
human
He must have been a very clever cook,
gpt
He was, poor feller, he was, said Bill, greatly affected.
human
For plum duff or Irish stoo there wasn't his equal in the land. But enough of these sad subjects. Pausin' only to explain that me an' Sam got off the iceberg on a homeward bound chicken coop, landed on Tierra del Fuego, walked to Valparaiso, and so got home, I will proceed to enliven the occasion with `The Ballad of the Bo'sun's Bride'.
gpt
Ho, aboard the Salt Junk Sarah We was rollin' homeward bound, When the bo'sun's bride fell over the side And very near got drowned. Rollin' home, rollin' home, Rollin' home across the foam, She had to swim to save her glim And catch us rollin' home.