Paddling under Palmettos — page 181: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

174 Paddling Under Palmettos. Their evenings around the camp-fire were jolly — ones. They had many visitors, many of them ladies, and until late in the night both Dick and Ned were kept busy singing their songs, the whole party joining in the chorus. The favorite with all was probably “White > Wings,” which Ned’s baritone rendered in a strik- ing manner, and the chorus rolled grandly over the water; but there was a deep interest maintained in Dick’s shanty, which, from the recollections asso- ciated with it of pleasant camp-fires and still more pleasant company, I give here verbatim. He called it OLD MOHEA. Once more with flowing northerly gales We're bounding o’er the main, Those verdant hills of the tropic isles We soon shall see again. Five sluggish moons have waxed and waned Since from those shores sailed we, But now we're bound from the Arctic ground, Rolling down to the old Mohea. CHORUS. Rolling down to old Mohea, my boys, Rolling down to old Mohea. We're once more bound from the Arctic ground, Rolling down to old Mohea. Gomicbooks. Go