To prove the seaman's text,
That after black appearances,
White squalls will follow next.

"O Phoebe dear! Oh, Phoebe dear!
Don't go and scream or faint;
You think because I'm black, I am
The Devil, but I ain't!
Behind the heels of Lady Lambe
I walked while I had breath,
But that is past, and I am now
A-walking after death!

"No murder, though, I come to tell,
By base and bloody crime;
So, Phoebe dear, put off your fits
To some more fitting time.
No coroner, like a boatswain's mate,
My body need attack,
With his round dozen to find out
Why I have died so black.

"One Sunday, shortly after tea,
My skin began to burn,
As if I had in my inside
A heater like a urn.
Delirious in the night I grew,
And as I lay in bed,
They say I gathered all the wool
You see upon my head.