Verses 1889-1896 Part 31

There's some s.h.i.+p bodies for burial -- we've carried 'em, soldered and packed; Down in their wills they wrote it, and n.o.body called _them_ cracked.

But me -- I've too much money, and people might. . . . All my fault: It come o' hoping for grandsons and buying that Wokin' vault.

I'm sick o' the 'ole dam' business; I'm going back where I came.

d.i.c.k, you're the son o' my body, and you'll take charge o' the same!

I want to lie by your mother, ten thousand mile away, And they'll want to send me to Woking; and that's where you'll earn your pay.

I've thought it out on the quiet, the same as it ought to be done -- Quiet, and decent, and proper -- an' here's your orders, my son.

You know the Line? You don't, though. You write to the Board, and tell Your father's death has upset you an' you're goin' to cruise for a spell, An' you'd like the _Mary Gloster_ -- I've held her ready for this -- They'll put her in working order and you'll take her out as she is.

Yes, it was money idle when I patched her and put her aside (Thank G.o.d, I can pay for my fancies!) -- the boat where your mother died, By the Little Paternosters, as you come to the Union Bank, We dropped her -- I think I told you -- and I p.r.i.c.ked it off where she sank -- ['Tiny she looked on the grating -- that oily, treacly sea --]

'Hundred and eighteen East, remember, and South just three.

Easy bearings to carry -- three South -- three to the dot; But I gave M'Andrew a copy in case of dying -- or not.

And so you'll write to M'Andrew, he's Chief of the Maori Line; They'll give him leave, if you ask 'em and say it's business o' mine.

I built three boats for the Maoris, an' very well pleased they were, An' I've known Mac since the Fifties, and Mac knew me -- and her.

After the first stroke warned me I sent him the money to keep Against the time you'd claim it, committin' your dad to the deep; For you are the son o' my body, and Mac was my oldest friend, I've never asked 'im to dinner, but he'll see it out to the end.

Stiff-necked Glasgow beggar, I've heard he's prayed for my soul, But he couldn't lie if you paid him, and he'd starve before he stole!

He'll take the _Mary_ in ballast -- you'll find her a lively s.h.i.+p; And you'll take Sir Anthony Gloster, that goes on 'is wedding-trip, Lashed in our old deck-cabin with all three port-holes wide, The kick o' the screw beneath him and the round blue seas outside!

Sir Anthony Gloster's carriage -- our 'ouse-flag flyin' free -- Ten thousand men on the pay-roll and forty freighters at sea!

He made himself and a million, but this world is a fleetin' show, And he'll go to the wife of 'is bosom the same as he ought to go -- By the heel of the Paternosters -- there isn't a chance to mistake -- And Mac'll pay you the money as soon as the bubbles break!

Five thousand for six weeks' cruising, the staunchest freighter afloat, And Mac he'll give you your bonus the minute I'm out o' the boat!

He'll take you round to Maca.s.sar, and you'll come back alone; He knows what I want o' the _Mary_. . . . I'll do what I please with my own.

Your mother 'ud call it wasteful, but I've seven-and-thirty more; I'll come in my private carriage and bid it wait at the door. . . .

For my son 'e was never a credit: 'e muddled with books and art, And 'e lived on Sir Anthony's money and 'e broke Sir Anthony's heart.

There isn't even a grandchild, and the Gloster family's done -- The only one you left me, O mother, the only one!

Harrer and Trinity College -- me slavin' early an' late -- An' he thinks I'm dying crazy, and you're in Maca.s.sar Strait!

Flesh o' my flesh, my dearie, for ever an' ever amen, That first stroke come for a warning; I ought to ha' gone to you then, But -- cheap repairs for a cheap 'un -- the doctors said I'd do: Mary, why didn't _you_ warn me? I've allus heeded to you, Excep' -- I know -- about women; but you are a spirit now; An', wife, they was only women, and I was a man. That's how.

An' a man 'e must go with a woman, as you could not understand; But I never talked 'em secrets. I paid 'em out o' hand.

Thank Gawd, I can pay for my fancies! Now what's five thousand to me, For a berth off the Paternosters in the haven where I would be?

_I_ believe in the Resurrection, if I read my Bible plain, But I wouldn't trust 'em at Wokin'; we're safer at sea again.

For the heart it shall go with the treasure -- go down to the sea in s.h.i.+ps.

I'm sick of the hired women -- I'll kiss my girl on her lips!

I'll be content with my fountain, I'll drink from my own well, And the wife of my youth shall charm me -- an' the rest can go to h.e.l.l!

(d.i.c.kie, _he_ will, that's certain.) I'll lie in our standin'-bed, An' Mac'll take her in ballast -- an' she trims best by the head. . . .

Down by the head an' sinkin', her fires are drawn and cold, And the water's splas.h.i.+n' hollow on the skin of the empty hold -- Churning an' choking and chuckling, quiet and sc.u.mmy and dark -- Full to her lower hatches and risin' steady. Hark!

That was the after-bulkhead. . . . She's flooded from stem to stern. . . .

Never seen death yet, d.i.c.kie? . . . Well, now is your time to learn!

SESTINA OF THE TRAMP-ROYAL

Speakin' in general, I 'ave tried 'em all, The 'appy roads that take you o'er the world.

Speakin' in general, I 'ave found them good For such as cannot use one bed too long, But must get 'ence, the same as I 'ave done, An' go observin' matters till they die.

What do it matter where or 'ow we die, So long as we've our 'ealth to watch it all -- The different ways that different things are done, An' men an' women lovin' in this world -- Takin' our chances as they come along, An' when they ain't, pretendin' they are good?

In cash or credit -- no, it aren't no good; You 'ave to 'ave the 'abit or you'd die, Unless you lived your life but one day long, Nor didn't prophesy nor fret at all, But drew your tucker some'ow from the world, An' never bothered what you might ha' done.

But, Gawd, what things are they I 'aven't done?

I've turned my 'and to most, an' turned it good, In various situations round the world -- For 'im that doth not work must surely die; But that's no reason man should labour all 'Is life on one same s.h.i.+ft; life's none so long.

Therefore, from job to job I've moved along.

Pay couldn't 'old me when my time was done, For something in my 'ead upset me all, Till I 'ad dropped whatever 'twas for good, An', out at sea, be'eld the dock-lights die, An' met my mate -- the wind that tramps the world!

It's like a book, I think, this bloomin' world, Which you can read and care for just so long, But presently you feel that you will die Unless you get the page you're readin' done, An' turn another -- likely not so good; But what you're after is to turn 'em all.

Gawd bless this world! Whatever she 'ath done -- Excep' when awful long -- I've found it good.

So write, before I die, "'E liked it all!"

BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

When 'Omer smote 'is bloomin' lyre, He'd 'eard men sing by land an' sea; An' what he thought 'e might require, 'E went an' took -- the same as me!

The market-girls an' fishermen, The shepherds an' the sailors, too, They 'eard old songs turn up again, But kep' it quiet -- same as you!

They knew 'e stole; 'e knew they knowed.

They didn't tell, nor make a fuss, But winked at 'Omer down the road, An' 'e winked back -- the same as us!

"BACK TO THE ARMY AGAIN"

I'm 'ere in a ticky ulster an' a broken billyc.o.c.k 'at, A-layin' on to the sergeant I don't know a gun from a bat; My s.h.i.+rt's doin' duty for jacket, my sock's stickin' out o' my boots, An' I'm learnin' the d.a.m.ned old goose-step along o' the new recruits!

Back to the Army again, sergeant, Back to the Army again.

Don't look so 'ard, for I 'aven't no card, I'm back to the Army again!

I done my six years' service. 'Er Majesty sez: "Good-day -- You'll please to come when you're rung for, an' 'ere's your 'ole back-pay; An' fourpence a day for baccy -- an' bloomin' gen'rous, too; An' now you can make your fortune -- the same as your orf'cers do."

Back to the Army again, sergeant, Back to the Army again; 'Ow did I learn to do right-about turn?

I'm back to the Army again!

A man o' four-an'-twenty that 'asn't learned of a trade -- Beside "Reserve" agin' him -- 'e'd better be never made.

I tried my luck for a quarter, an' that was enough for me, An' I thought of 'Er Majesty's barricks, an' I thought I'd go an' see.

Back to the Army again, sergeant, Back to the Army again; 'Tisn't my fault if I dress when I 'alt -- I'm back to the Army again!

The sergeant arst no questions, but 'e winked the other eye, 'E sez to me, "'Shun!" an' I shunted, the same as in days gone by; For 'e saw the set o' my shoulders, an' I couldn't 'elp 'oldin' straight When me an' the other rookies come under the barrick-gate.

Back to the Army again, sergeant, Back to the Army again; 'Oo would ha' thought I could carry an' port?

I'm back to the Army again!