He carved a tooth, a whale’s tooth,

With a picture of his true love on it.

No woman this, but he valued truth,

So it bore the image of his ship.

In minute detail from stern to bow,

With his comrades from the past and now,

From the galley chefs to the lonesome ‘crow’

He polished the piece till you could see its glow,

It was his chef d’oeuvre, his masterpiece,

He used every scrap of skill he had inside,

‘Twas his parting gift, his last caprice,

His present to his son before he died.