Queequeg in Weehawken
On the wrong side of the Lincoln tunnel
He's got a welding gig in Secaucus
But won't get past the Swing N Snarl bar in Union City
Where bastard drunks insult his tattoos
He breaks his lance over their heads
And harpoons their livers
The cops come runnin
Now Queequeg's got his coffin alright
A six by six cell at Union City Jail
They'll extradite him in the morning
For some infractions in American Samoa
Something about the daughter of a tribal chief
Then in slips Whitman, with a basket of grub
A file and a skeleton key
They escape to Nantasket
And unlike old Ishmael, Whitman
Never minded the sleeping arrangements
Queequeg's got a new wife now
Who? Walt'll never tell