In the City
of Berlin








There were passengers thirty and three
And they sailed along o' we
On the North Atlantic Sea
In the City of Berlin.

And they none of'em laughed or spoke—
(They were far too queasy to smoke)
And they couldn't stomach a joke
In the City of Berlin.

When from New York we flew
They eat through the whole menew
And later retired from view
On the City of Berlin.

The Stewardess smiled a smile
Of pity mingled with guile
And dealt them their basins awhile
On the City of Berlin.

And they cursed in various tones
The lockers of Davy Jones
And the air was full of their groans
On the City of Berlin.

They commended their souls to the Lord
As the wind of the ocean roared
And we took the spray on board
Of the City of Berlin

But we (who are Never Ill)
We watched —em load & unfill
And laughed—we are laughing still-
On the City of Berlin

There were passengers thirty and three
A grisly crowd to see
And they sailed along o' we
On the City of Berlin.