In a fix, in a pickle, in a stew

Captain Miller and his boys

Heard the lookout cry ahoy!

As they ran aground upon the bar of sand

And their hardy ship was broken

And their gunpowder was soakin’

And the situation soon got out of hand

When the storm had cast the crew upon this land

”Twas just a little island

But he warned them all Be silent

He was wary for the safety of his crew

So they brought what they could carry

And he told them not to tarry

And bring those guns and ammunition too

Or we’ll wind up in a pickle and a stew

Now, the natives, they were tribal

And they’d never seen the Bible

And they cared not but a fig for being kind

And they smelled the blood of others

Who were surely not their brothers

And they crept upon the crewmen from behind

With culinary motives on their mind

So they had them all surrounded

And upon their prey they bounded

They were silent, and they blended with the night

And the sailors were defeated,

Of their guns and ammo cheated,

And they couldn’t even offer up a fight

They were dragged away, before the morning light

Now, the tribal men were hungry

All they had was fruit and sundry

And the puny fish they caught within their net

And the coals, they were a-raking

Getting ready for the baking

Of the biggest catch they’d captured, as of yet

And the sailors, they were humbled with regret

Now the Chief, he started dreaming

Of the roasting and the steaming

And the savory delights they would enjoy

And the slaughter would be gruesome

And the barbeque so toothsome

A rotisserie of spits they would employ

And the sailors’ sorry ship they would destroy

Now, the Captain, he was cunning

And his mind had started running

To a way they might this tragedy undo

How to rescue all his crewmen

From these natives so inhuman

And find their guns and ammunition too

And free them from this Pickle, and this Stew.


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