An' the first person I met in Liverpool was
the young woman I 'ad the ring of.
"'Where's my ring?' she says, before I'd time to look round.
"Now, I never was one as liked 'avin' words with a woman, so I pitched her
a nice yarn about the cache I 'ad at the back o' my bunk, an' 'ow I vallied
'er ring that 'igh I stowed it there to keep it safe, an' 'ow I'd slid down
the anchor cable an' swum ashore an' left everything I 'ad behind me, I was
that red-'ot for a sight of 'er.
"'Ye didn't,' she says quite ratty, 'ye gave it to one o' them nasty yaller
gals ye sing about.'
"'I didn't,' I says; 'Ye did,' she says; 'I didn't,' says I. An' we went on
like that for a bit until I says at last, 'If I can get aboard the old
_Pearl_ again,' I says, 'I'll get the ring,' I says, 'an' send it you in a
letter,' I says, 'an' then per'aps you'll be sorry for the nasty way you've
spoke to me,' I says.
"'Ho, yes,' she says, sniffy-like, 'per'aps I will, per'aps I won't,' an'
off she goes with 'er nose in the air.
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