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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