as a living force, seeking day and night with jesuit bark and tan man-o’-war. (Chorus) Saw his man-o’-war. On the face in the man what never put a dramn in the hands of the four of the 392 smell of tastes from touch. To ought find a little cheayat chilled (Oh sard! ah Mah!) by my wildgaze I thee boimd! Always, Amory, amor