Digital Tradition Mirror

Eskimo Nell (Amalgamated)

Eskimo Nell (Amalgamated)

WARNING:  The text below contains plenty of four-letter words as well
as violence & male sexual vanity, which serious persons might take it
to glorify rather than satirize.

Don't look at me that way, stranger,                        0
  my pants ain't full of shit,
It's just this God-damned syphilis
  eating me bit by bit.

When a man grows old and his balls grow cold                1
  and the tip of his knob turns blue,
And it's bent in the middle like a one-string fiddle,
  he can tell you a tale or two.

So fill my glass and I'll park my arse                      2
  and a tale to you I'll tell
Of Deadeye Dick and Mexico Pete
  and the gentle Eskimo Nell.

Now when Deadeye Dick and Mexico Pete                       3
  go forth in search of fun,
It's usually Dick who wields the prick,
  and Mexico Pete the gun.

And when Deadeye Dick and Mexico Pete                       4
  are sore depressed and mad,
It's mainly cunt that bears the brunt,
  so the shooting ain't too bad.

Now Deadeye Dick and Mexico Pete5
  had been working Dead Man's Creek,
And they'd had no luck in the way of a fuck
  for nigh on half a week --

Just a moose or two, and a caribou,                         6
  and a bison cow or so,
And since Deadeye Dick's was the king of pricks,
  he found this fucking slow.

So do or dare, this horny pair7
  set out for the Rio Grande,
Deadeye Dick with his muscular prick,
  and Pete with gun in hand.

They blazed away on their randy way,                        8
  no man their fire withstood,
And many a bride who was hubby's pride
  knew pregnant widowhood.

They made the strand of the Rio Grande                      9
  at the height of a blazing noon,
And to slake their thirst and do their worst
  They sought Black Mike's saloon,

Came crashing in with doors aswing.                         10
  Both prick and gun flashed free:
"According to sex, you poxy wrecks,
  you drinks or fucks with me."

Now they knew of the fame of our hero's name                11
  from the Horn to Panama,
And with nothing worse than a muttered curse
  those cowhands sought the bar.

And the women too his habits knew12
  down on the Rio Grande,
And forty whores pulled down their drawers
  at Deadeye Dick's command.

They saw the fingers of Mexico Pete                         13
  twitch on the grigger grip;
'Twas death to wait -- at a fearful rate
  those whores began to strip.

Now Deadeye Dick was breathing quick                        14
  with lecherous snorts and grunts
As forty arses were bared to view,
  to say nothing of forty cunts.

Now forty arses and forty cunts --                          15
  you'll see, if you use your wits
And are pretty slick at arithmetic --
  that's likewise eighty tits.

And eighty tits is a gladsome sight                         16
  for a man with a raging stand;
They may be rare in Berkeley Square,
  but not on the Rio Grande.

Dick backed to the door and the number one whore            17
  could see in the chandelier's prism
As he sprung through air, his ballocks all bare
  and sprayed her with his jism.

His phallic limb was in fighting trim                       18
  as he backed and took a run.
He made a dart at the nearest tart
  and scored a hole in one.

He bore the whore to the sandy floor                        19
  and fucked here deep and fine,
And though she grinned, it put the wind
  up the other thirty-nine.

When Deadeye Dick lets loose his prick,                     20
  he's got no time to spare,
For with speed and length combined with strength,
  he fairly singes hair.

So Deadeye Dick, he fucks 'em quick,                       21
  and flinging the first aside,
He was making a gin at the second quim,
  when the swing doors opened wide.

Then there entered into that hall of sin --                 22
  yes, into that harlots' hell --
A lusty maid who was unafraid,
  and her name was ESKIMO NELL.

By this time Dick had got his prick                         23
  well into number two,
When Eskimo Nell lets out a yell
  and says to him, "Hey -- you".

The hefty lout, he turned about.24
  Both knob and face were red.
With a dextrous flick of his muscular prick,
  the tart flew o'er his head.

With a lustful leer he said, "Look here,                    25
  just get into the queue:
I've got to mate with thirty-eight
  before I get to you.

But Eskimo Nell, she stood it well                          26
  and looked him in the eyes;
With utter scorn she scanned the horn
  that rose from his hairy thighs.

She blew a puff from her cigarette                          27
  onto his steaming knob;
So utterly beat was Mexico Pete,
  he forgot to do his job.

It was Eskimo Nell who broke the spell                      28
  in accents calm and cool:
"You cunt-struck shrimp of a Yankee pimp,
  do you call that thing a tool?

If this here town can't take that down",                    29
  she sneered to the cowering whores,
"There's one little cunt that can do the stunt,
  and it's Eskimo Nell's, not yours."

She shed her garments one by one30
  with an air of conscious pride,
Till at last she stood in her womanhood,
  and they saw the Great Divide.

It's fair to state it was not so great,                     31
  but it had a solid rim;
Viewed from without, it left no doubt
  of the tensile strength within.

She seated herself on a table top,                          32
  where someone had left a glass.
With a twitch of her tits, she crushed it to bits
  with the cheeks of her muscular arse.

She flexed her knees with supple ease                       33
  and spread her legs apart;
With a final nod to the randy sod,
  she gave him the cue to start.

But Dick he knew a trick or two34
  and meant to save his powers,
For if he'd a mind he could stand the grind
  for a couple of fucking hours.

So Deadeye Dick with his king of a prick                    35
  prepared to take his time,
For a miss like this was fucking bliss,
  so he staged a pantomime.

He winked his arsehole in and out,                          36
  and make his balls inflate
Until they looked like granite knobs
  on top of a garden gate.

He rubbed his foreskin up and down;                         37
  his knob increased in size;
His mighty prick grew twice as thick
  and almost reached his eyes.

He polished the rod with rum and gob                        38
  to make it steaming hot,
And to finish the job he sprinkled the knob
  with a cayenne pepper pot.

Then neither did he take a run,39
  nor did he take a leap,
Nor did he stoop, but made a swoop
  and a steady forward creep.

He took his sight as a gunman might                         40
  along that fearsome tool,
And the dead-slow glide as it slid inside
  was calculating, cool.

Have you seen the massive pistons41
  on the giant CPR
with the driving force of a thousand horse?
  Well, you know what pistons are,

Or you think you do, if you've yet to view                  42
  the power that drives that prick
Or the work that's done on a nonstop run
  by a man like Deadeye Dick.

But Eskimo Nell was an infidel,43
  as good as a whole harem,
With the strength of ten in her abdomen
  and her rock-of-ages beam.

Amidships she could stand the rush                          44
  like the flush of a water-closet,
And she grasped his cock like the Chatwood lock
  on the National Safe Deposit.

She lay for a while with a subtle smile,                    45
  the grip of her cunt grew keener;
Then giving a sigh she sucked him dry
  with the ease of a vacuum cleaner.

She performed this feat in a way so neat                    46
  as to set at complete defiance
The primary cause and the basic laws
  that govern sexual science.

She calmly rode through the phallic code                    47
  that for years had stood the test:
The accepted rules of established schools
  in a second or two went west.

And so, my friend, we approach the end                      48
  of this copulative epic:
The effect on Dick was sudden and quick
  and akin to anesthetic.

He slipped to the floor and knew no more,                   49
  his passions extinct and dead.
He didn't shout as his tool fell out;
  it was fairly stripped of its thread.

Then Mexico Pete he sprang to his feet                      50
  to avenge his pal's affront;
With a jarring jolt of his blue-nosed Colt,
  he rammed it up her cunt.

He shoved it hard to the trigger guard                      51
  and fired two times three,
But to his surprise she rolled her eyes
  and sighed in ecstasy.

Said Eskimo Nell, "You've rung my bell;                     52
  I'm ready to explode.
Oh Pete, my sweet, can you repeat?"
  Said he, "I've shot my load".

She rose to her feet with a smile so sweet,                 53
  and "Bully", she said, "for you,
Though I might have guessed that would be the best
  you Yankee simps could do.

When next your friend and you intend                        54
  to sally forth for fun,
Get Deadeye Dick a sugar stick
  and buy yourself a bun.

I thought you jerks could give me the works",               55
  she said in accents cool,
"But I guess I must go to the land of snow
  to find a man with a tool.

I'm going forth to the frozen north,                        56
  where the pricks are hard and strong,
That is the land of the all-night stand --
  and the nights are six months long!

It's hard as tin when you stick it in                       57
  in the land where spunk is _spunk_:
Not a trickling stream of lukewarm cream,
  but a solid frozen chunk.

That is the land where they understand                      58
  what it means to copulate,
Where even the dead sleep two in a bed
  and the infants masturbate.

Yes, I'm going forth to the frozen north,                   59
  where a whore can do no wrong,
Where the Arctic blizzard sticks deep in your gizzard
  like fourteen inches of dong,

Back again to where men are men,60
  to the Terra Bollicum.
It's there I'll spend my worthy end,
  for the north is calling _Come!_"

So Deadeye Dick and Mexico Pete61
  slunk out from the Rio Grande,
Deadeye Dick with his nackered prick,
  and Pete with no gun in his hand.

But in the land of the grinding gland,                      62
  where the walrus plays with his prong,
Where the polar bear wanks off in his lair,
  that's where they'll sing this song.

They'll tell this tale on the Arctic trail                  63
  where the nights are sixty below,
Where it's so damn cold, French letters are sold
  wrapped up in a ball of snow.

n the Valley of Death, with bated breath,                  64
  it's there they'll sing it too,
Where the skeletons rattle in sexual battle
  and the mouldering corpses screw.

This version is based on five sources:

A.  Posted by Abby Sale.

D.  _The Dirty Song Book_ by Jerry Silverman (Stein & Day, New York,
    1982; ISBN O-8128-2800-3, O-8128-6118-3), pp. 56-58.  The only
    version that is supplied with a tune, this one is deviant in other
    respects as well: it is much shorter (only 22 stanzas of the

    length given below, arranged as 11 double stanzas), and yet some
    lines appear in none of the other versions.  Thanks, Dolores
    Nichols, for pointing out the presence of this version in a book
    that I had.

R.  _Why Was He Born so Beautiful and Other Rugby Songs_ (Sphere
    Books, London, 1967, 1973; ISBN 0722162251); posted by Hugh T.

S.  Copy of a typescript in circulation at St Andrews University,
    Scotland, 1959.  Not sung there.

From:The World's Best Dirty Songs by Don Laycock (Angus & Robertson,
    North Ryde, Australia, 1987; HarperCollinsPublishers, London; ISBN
    0 207 15408 2).  Labeled "Recitation", though in a songbook.

Note: The stanzas are numbered on the right.  I have made the first one 0
     because it appears only in D & is probably a floating stanza.
     The existence of D perhaps excuses the continuation of this thread on, tho it seems to be agreed that this poem is not in
     general circulation as a song.  For further ObMusic content, someone
     might tell us what manner of folk instrument a one-string fiddle is
     (see stanza 1).

     All the versions are significantly different, not only in details but
in the presence or absence of various lines and in the ordering of
some of the stanzas.  However, S & W are pretty close, as are A & R.
     I have included everything that occurred at least once, except for a
couple of scraps that are inconsistent.  In particular, for the first
two lines of 44, D has:
From all his years of fucking queers,
  he knew that now this was it.
which also has a dreadful forced rhyme (was IT / CLOSet).  W has,
before 18,
Now Deadeye Dick had screwed a few
  on a spree the previous night;
This he had done in a spirit of fun
  to whet his appetite.
Likewise in A.  But this contradicts 5-6, so I have left it out.
Where, as in most lines, there are two or more versions, I have chosen
the one that seems to me best with regard to rhyme, meter, and
I have made the spelling & punctuation uniform.  Since this is
imitation Robert Service, it properly consists of heptameters.
Writing it that way, however, would make the lines too long for most
people's screens, so I have followed all the versions but S in
breaking each line at the caesura, but have indented the second half &
not capitalized it.
     Though set in the U.S., this ballad is clearly unAmerican in view of
the use of "arse", "French letter", "put the wind up", "queue", and
"quim".  Mention of the CPR (Canada   Pacific Railroad) in all
versions but D, together with the heroine's epithet, is fair proof of
Canada   origin.  This, however, makes a puzzle of the "Berkeley
Square" wisecrack (16), which occurs in all versions, tho respelled
"Barclay" in D.  Is there a place in Canada so named?  Or is the one
in London famed throughout the Commonwealth as an abode of wimps?


Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!

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