Here, Kendall. Memories.

THE BALLAD OF MAD JACK
Steve Romanoff

In a tumbledown graveyard in Barnstable, Mass.,
Hangs a humble reminder to those who might pass
And notice the shingle high over the grave,
That honors the bones of Mad Jack.
He was born Johnny Percival, on Scorton Hill,
A contrary lad from the goin'
He ran off to sea just to prove he was free,
And was sixty long years in returnin'.
With just nine months of school he departed the land,
He moved up from cabin boy hand-over-hand,
Impressed by the English to service their king,
As he jumped overboard they could all hear him sing:

        Come a sailor, come a soldier, come a captain, a king,
        If you dare me to do it I'll do anything,
        I'll take up the fight, I'll even the odds,
        I'll do what is right or I'm not from Cape Cod,
        I'm Jack the cantankerous cuss from Cape Cod.

In 1813, Jack started to work
On a plan to reopen the port of New York,
The British blockade had everyone down,
So Mad Jack decided to turn it around:
He borrowed a fisherman's smack, so I'm told,
Put goats on the deck and armed men in the hold,
When a tender of Red Coats dared pull him aside,
His men came out shootin' as proudly he cried,

        Chorus

Did you hear how Mad Jack saved "Old Ironsides" too,
From the scrapheap of flagships too old to renew,
At sixty-five years he inspected each shroud,
And promised the Navy he'd make her stand proud.
He collected the finest ship-riggers around,
From Boston, New Bedford, and Old Portsmouth Town,
He rigged her and jigged her and made her stand tall,
Then he sailed her around the world once and for all.

        Chorus (repeat)