. Salt-water poems and ballads. a tackle, a purchase, a sort of a shift, To hoist the boats off o the deck-house and get them her stern gives a sickenin settle, her bows give a lift, N comes a crash of green water as sets me afloatWith freezing fingers clutching the keel of a boat —The bottom-up whaler — n that was the juice of anote. Well, I clambers acrost o the keel n I gets me secured,When I sees a face in the white o the smother to looard,So I gives im a and, n be shot if it wasnt the stooard! * So he climbs up forrard o me, n thanky, a says,N we sits n shivers n freeze to the
. Salt-water poems and ballads. a tackle, a purchase, a sort of a shift, To hoist the boats off o the deck-house and get them her stern gives a sickenin settle, her bows give a lift, N comes a crash of green water as sets me afloatWith freezing fingers clutching the keel of a boat —The bottom-up whaler — n that was the juice of anote. Well, I clambers acrost o the keel n I gets me secured,When I sees a face in the white o the smother to looard,So I gives im a and, n be shot if it wasnt the stooard! * So he climbs up forrard o me, n thanky, a says,N we sits n shivers n freeze to the bone wi the sprays,N / sings Abel Brown, n the stooard he prays. Wi never a dollop to sup nor a morsel to bite. The lips of us blue with the cold n the heads of us in a Cape Horn sea for a day n a night. N then the stooard goes dotty n puts a tune to his lip,N moans about Love like a dern old hen wi the pip —(I sets no store upon stooards — they aint no use on a ship). SING A SONG 0 SHIPWRECK II liWi^^lVc. 12 SALT-WATER BALLADS N mother, the looney cackles, come n put Willy to bed!So I says Dry up, or Ill fetch you a crack o the head;The kettles a-bilin, he answers, n Ill go butter the bread. N he falls to singin some slush about clinkin a can, N at last he dies, so he does, n I tells you, Jan, I was glad when he did, for he werent no fun for a man. So he falls forrard, he does, n he closes his eye,N quiet he lays n quiet I leaves him lie,N I was alone with his corp, n the cold green sea andthe sky. N then I dithers, I guess, for the next as I knewWas the voice of a mate as was sayin to one of the crew,Easy, my son, wi the brandy, be shot if he aintcomin-to 1
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Keywords: ., bookauthormasefiel, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookyear1916
