The Hunting of the Snark: An Agony, in Eight Fits

“Just the place for a Snark!” the Bellman cried,

Supporting each man on the top of the tide

“Just the place for a Snark! I have said it twice:

Just the place for a Snark! I have said it thrice:

The crew was complete: it included a Boots—

A Barrister, brought to arrange their disputes—

A Billiard-marker, whose skill was immense,

Might perhaps have won more than his share—

But a Banker, engaged at enormous expense,

Had the whole of their cash in his care.

There was also a Beaver, that paced on the deck,

And had often (the Bellman said) saved them from wreck,

There was one who was famed for the number of things

His umbrella, his watch, all his jewels and rings,

And the clothes he had bought for the trip.

He had forty-two boxes, all carefully packed,

But, since he omitted to mention the fact,

The loss of his clothes hardly mattered, because

With three pair of boots—but the worst of it was,

He would answer to “Hi!” or to any loud cry,

To “What-you-may-call-um!” or “What-was-his-name!”

While, for those who preferred a more forcible word,

His intimate friends called him “Candle-ends,”

“His form is ungainly—his intellect small—”

“But his courage is perfect! And that, after all,

Is the thing that one needs with a Snark.”

He would joke with hyænas, returning their stare

And he once went a walk, paw-in-paw, with a bear,

He came as a Baker: but owned, when too late—

He could only bake Bridecake—for which, I may state,