A Capital Ship
A capital ship for an ocean trip
Was the 'Walloping Window Blind'
No wind that blew dismayed her crew
Or troubled the captain's mind
The man at the wheel was made to feel
Contempt for the wildest blow-ow-ow
Tho' it oft appeared when the gale had cleared
That he'd been in his bunk below
So, blow ye winds, heigh-ho
A-roving I will go
I'll stay no more on England's shore
So let the music play-ay-ay
I'm off for the morning train
To cross the raging main
I'm off to my love with a boxing glove
10,000 miles away
The bos'un's mate was very sedate
Yet fond of amusement too
He played hop-scotch with the starboard watch
While the captain tickled the crew
The gunner he was apparently mad
For he sat on the after ra-ra-rail
And fired salutes with the captain's boots
In the teeth of a booming gale
The captain sat on the commodore's hat
And dined in a royal way
Off pickles & figs & little roast pigs
And gunners bread each day
The cook was Dutch and behaved as such
For the diet he served the crew-ew-ew
Was a couple of tons of hot-cross buns
Served up with sugar and glue
Then we all fell ill as mariners will
On a diet that's rough and crude
And we shivered and shook as we dipped the cook
In a tub of his gluesome food
All nautical pride we cast aside
And we ran the vessel asho-o-ore
On the Gulliby Isles where the poopoo smiles
And the rubbily ubdugs roar
Composed of sand was that favored land
And trimmed with cinnamon straws
And pink and blue was the pleasing hue
Of the ticke-toe teaser's claws
We sat on the edge of a sandy ledge
And shot at the whistling bee-ee-ee
While the rugabug bats wore waterproof hats
As they dipped in the shining sea
On rugabug bark from dawn till dark
We dined till we all had grown
Uncommonly shrunk when a Chinese junk
Came up from the Torrible Zone
She was stubby and square, but we didn't much care
So we cherrily put to sea-ea-ea
And we left all the crew of the junk to chew
On the bark of the rubabug tree.
poem by Charles Edward Carryl
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A Nautical Ballad
A capital ship for an ocean trip,
Was the 'Walloping Window-blind';
No gale that blew dismayed her crew
Or troubled the captain's mind.
The man at the wheel was taught to feel
Contempt for the wildest blow,
And it often appeared, when the weather had cleared,
That he'd been in his bunk below.
'The boatswain's mate was very sedate,
Yet fond of amusement, too;
And he played hop-scotch with the starboard watch,
While the captain tickled the crew.
And the gunner we had was apparently mad,
For he sat on the after rail,
And fired salutes with the captain's boots,
In the teeth of the booming gale.
'The captain sat in a commodore's hat
And dined in a royal way
On toasted pigs and pickles and figs
And gummery bread each day.
But the cook was Dutch and behaved as such;
For the diet he gave the crew
Was a number of tons of hot-cross buns
Prepared with sugar and glue.
'All nautical pride we laid aside,
And we cast the vessel ashore
On the Gulliby Isles, where the Poohpooh smiles,
And the Rumbletumbunders roar.
And we sat on the edge of a sandy ledge
And shot at the whistling bee;
And the cinnamon-bats wore water-proof hats
As they danced in the sounding sea.
'On rubgub bark, from dawn to dark,
We fed, till we all had grown
Uncommonly shrunk,—when a Chinese junk
Came by from the torriby zone.
She was stubby and square, but we didn't much care,
And we cheerily put to sea;
And we left the crew of the junk to chew
The bark of the rubgub tree.'
poem by Charles Edward Carryl
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The Walloping Window Blind
A capital ship for an ocean trip
Was the Walloping Window Blind.
No gale that blew dismayed her crew
Or troubled the captain's mind.
The man at the wheel was taught to feel
Contempt for the wildest blow.
And it often appeared when the weather had cleared
That he'd been in his bunk below.
The boatswain's mate was very sedate,
Yet fond of amusement too;
And he played hopscotch with the starboard watch
While the captain tickled the crew.
And the gunner we had was apparently mad
For he stood on the cannon's tail,
And fired salutes in the captain's boots
In the teeth of a booming gale.
The captain sat in a commodore's hat
And dined in a royal way
On toasted pigs and pickles and figs
And gummery bread each day.
But the rest of us ate from an odious plate
For the food that was given the crew
Was a number of tons of hot cross buns
Chopped up with sugar and glue.
We all felt ill as mariners will
On a diet that's cheap and rude,
And the poop deck shook when we dipped the cook
In a tub of his gluesome food.
Then nautical pride we laid aside,
And we cast the vessel ashore
On the Gulliby Isles, where the Poohpooh smiles
And the Anagzanders roar.
Composed of sand was that favored land
And trimmed in cinnamon straws;
And pink and blue was the pleasing hue
Of the Tickletoeteasers claws.
We climbed to the edge of a sandy ledge
And soared with the whistling bee,
And we only stopped at four o'clock
For a pot of cinnamon tea.
From dawn to dark, on rubagub bark
We fed, till we all had grown
Uncommonly thin. Then a boat blew in
On a wind from the torriby zone.
She was stubby and square, but we didn't much care,
And we cheerily put to sea.
We plotted a course for the Land of Blue Horse,
Due west 'cross the Peppermint Sea.
poem by Charles Edward Carryl
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The Yarn of the Nancy Bell
'Twas on the shores that round our coast
From Deal to Ramsgate span,
That I found alone on a piece of stone
An elderly naval man.
His hair was weedy, his beard was long,
And weedy and long was he,
And I heard this wight on the shore recite,
In a singular minor key:
"Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold,
And the mate of the NANCY brig,
And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig."
And he shook his fists and he tore his hair,
Till I really felt afraid,
For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking,
And so I simply said:
"Oh, elderly man, it's little I know
Of the duties of men of the sea,
And I'll eat my hand if I understand
However you can be
"At once a cook, and a captain bold,
And the mate of the NANCY brig,
And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig."
Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which
Is a trick all seamen larn,
And having got rid of a thumping quid,
He spun this painful yarn:
"'Twas in the good ship NANCY BELL
That we sailed to the Indian Sea,
And there on a reef we come to grief,
Which has often occurred to me.
"And pretty nigh all the crew was drowned
(There was seventy-seven o' soul),
And only ten of the NANCY'S men
Said 'Here!' to the muster-roll.
"There was me and the cook and the captain bold,
And the mate of the NANCY brig,
And the bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig.
"For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink,
Till a-hungry we did feel,
So we drawed a lot, and, accordin' shot
The captain for our meal.
"The next lot fell to the NANCY'S mate,
And a delicate dish he made;
Then our appetite with the midshipmite
We seven survivors stayed.
"And then we murdered the bo'sun tight,
And he much resembled pig;
Then we wittled free, did the cook and me,
On the crew of the captain's gig.
"Then only the cook and me was left,
And the delicate question, 'Which
Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose,
And we argued it out as sich.
"For I loved that cook as a brother, I did,
And the cook he worshipped me;
But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed
In the other chap's hold, you see.
"'I'll be eat if you dines off me,' says TOM;
'Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be, -
'I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I;
And 'Exactly so,' quoth he.
"Says he, 'Dear JAMES, to murder me
Were a foolish thing to do,
For don't you see that you can't cook ME,
While I can - and will - cook YOU!'
"So he boils the water, and takes the salt
And the pepper in portions true
(Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot.
And some sage and parsley too.
"'Come here,' says he, with a proper pride,
Which his smiling features tell,
''T will soothing be if I let you see
How extremely nice you'll smell.'
"And he stirred it round and round and round,
And he sniffed at the foaming froth;
When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals
In the scum of the boiling broth.
"And I eat that cook in a week or less,
And - as I eating be
The last of his chops, why, I almost drops,
For a wessel in sight I see!
"And I never larf, and I never smile,
And I never lark nor play,
But sit and croak, and a single joke
I have - which is to say:
"Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold,
And the mate of the NANCY brig,
And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig!'"
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Let Her Go Down
Sometime in October
we sailed from England's shore
When we sailed into a raging storm
like I never ever seen before
And all of the crew they were brave men
but the captain he was braver
and he said
"Never mind the ship me boys
There's none of us here can save her"
Let her go down Swim for your lives
Swim for your children swim for your wives
Let her go down Let her go down
Lost in the open ocean
there was some of the crew and me
while the captain steered our wounded ship
to the bottom of an angry sea
And with his dying breath
we all heard him say
"It's just the fortune of sailor"
and he said
"Never mind the ship me boys
There's none of us here can save her"
chorus
He wondered if his shipmates
were ready to just pray and give in
so he called their names out one by one
but there was no one else around but him
He saw the ship go down the fading light
and he knew that they could have saved her
He said
"The captain lied when the captain cried
'There's none of us here can save her' "
chorus
Swim for your lives
Swim for your children swim for your wives
Let her go down Let her go down
Swim for your lives
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wreck of the Indian Chief
'Twas on the 8th of January 1881,
That a terrific gale along the English Channel ran,
And spread death and disaster in its train,
Whereby the "Indian Chief" vessel was tossed on the raging main.
She was driven ashore on the Goodwin Sands,
And the good captain fearlessly issued hie commands,
"Come, my men, try snd save the vessel, work with all your might,"
Although the poor sailors on board were in a fearful plight.
They were expecting every minute her hull would give way,
And they, poor souls, felt stricken with dismay,
And the captain and some of the crew clung to the main masts,
Where they were exposed to the wind's cold blasts.
A fierce gale was blowing and the sea ran mountains high,
And the sailors on board heaved many a bitter sigh;
And in the teeth of the storm the lifeboat was rowed bravely
Towards the ship in distress, which was awful to see.
The ship was lifted high on the crest of a wave,
While the sailors tried hard their lives to save,
And implored God to save them from a watery grave,
And through fear eome of them began to rave.
The waves were miles long in length;
And the sailors had lost nearly all their strength,
By striving hard their lives to save,
From being drowned in the briny wave.
A ration of rum and a biscuit was served out to each man,
And the weary night passed, and then appeared the morning dawn;
And when the lifeboat hove in sight a sailor did shout,
"Thank God, there's she at last without any doubt."
But, with weakness and the biting cold,
Several of fhe sailors let go their hold;
And, alas, fell into the yawning sea,
Poor souls! and were launched into eternity.
Oh, it was a most fearful plight,
For the poor sailors to be in the rigging all night;
While the storm fiend did laugh and roar,
And the big waves lashed the ship all o'er.
And as the lifeboat drew near,
The poor sailors raised a faint cheer;
And all the lifeboat men saw was a solitary mast,
And some sailors clinging to it, while the ahip was sinking fast.
Charles Tait, the coxswain of the lifeboat, was a skilful boatman,
And the bravery he and his crew displayed was really grand;
For his men were hardy and a very heroic set,
And for bravery their equals it would be hard to get.
But, thank God, out of twenty-nine eleven were saved,
Owing to the way the lifeboat men behaved;
And when they landed with the eleven wreckers at Ramsgate,
The people's joy was very great.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Voyage
We planned a glorious voyage, my Captain bold and I,
To sail in bliss on summer seas while halcyon days went by;
And underneath a speckless sky in a little dancing breeze,
We decked our craft with roses, and launched it on the seas.
Yes - we would sail together, my Captain gay and I.
Past miles and miles of blossomed shore, with sheltering harbours nigh;
We would not tempt the trackless seas, nor roam the waters dark,
Les Love, the tricksy pilot, should e’er desert our bark.
Alas! For all our planning, my Captain brave and I,
We drove before a whistling gale beneath a lowering sky;
For the fierce storms came up on us scarce half a league from home,
And flung our crimson roses in the bitter blinding foam.
Silent our lilting love songs, untouched our gay guitar,
As side by side we toil and strive where raging tempests are;
But though in ceaseless labour our earnest days are spent,
A voiceless song is in our souls – a song of glad content.
For Love, the tricksy pilot, still at our helm he sings,
Our darkest night is luminous with torchlight from his wings;
Loudly he sings and sweetly above the whistling gale,
And with Love’s music in our hearts, how could we turn or quail?
Content we sail together, my Captain true and I,
Unheeding of the raging waves, or of the threatening sky;
With His strong hand to guard us, and Love to guide the boat,
The happiest pair of mariners that God has set afloat.
poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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A Salty Dog
'all hands on deck, we've run afloat!' i heard the captain cry
'explore the ship, replace the cook: let no one leave alive!'
Across the straits, around the horn: how far can sailors fly?
A twisted path, our tortured course, and no one left alive
We sailed for parts unknown to man, where ships come home to die
No lofty peak, nor fortress bold, could match our captain's eye
Upon the seventh seasick day we made our port of call
A sand so white, and sea so blue, no mortal place at all
We fired the gun, and burnt the mast, and rowed from ship to shore
The captain cried, we sailors wept: our tears were tears of joy
Now many moons and many junes have passed since we made land
A salty dog, this seaman's log: your witness my own hand
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wreck of the Schooner Samuel Crawford
'Twas in the year of 1886, and on the 29th of November,
Which the surviving crew of the "Samuel Crawford" will long remember,
She was bound to Baltimore with a cargo of pine lumber;
But, alas! the crew suffered greatly from cold and hunger.
'Twas on December 3rd when about ten miles south-west
Of Currituck light, and scudding at her best;
That a heavy gale struck her a merciless blow,
Which filled the hearts of the crew with fear and woe.
Then the merciless snow came down, hiding everything from view,
And as the night closed in the wind tempestuous blew;
Still the brave crew reefed the spanker and all the sails,
While not one amongst them with fear bewails.
Still the gallant little schooner ploughed on the seas,
Through the blinding snow and the stormy breeze;
Until it increased to a fearful hurricane,
Yet the crew wrought manfully and didn't complain.
But during the night the wind it harder blew,
And the brave little schooner was hove to;
And on the morning of December the 4th the wind died out,
But it rent the schooner from stem to stern without any doubt.
And the seas were running mountains high,
While the poor sailors, no doubt, heaved many a sigh;
Because they must have felt cold, and the schooner sprung a leak,
Still they wrought while their hearts were like to break.
Then the wind it sprang up in terrific fury again,
But the crew baled out the water with might and main;
But still the water fast on them did gain,
Yet the brave heroes disdained to complain.
On the morning of December the 4th she was scudding before a hurricane,
And the crew were exhausted, but managed the poop to gain;
And the vessel was tossed like a cork on the wave,
While the brave crew expected to meet with a watery grave.
And huge beams and pine planks were washed overboard,
While Captain Tilton looked on and said never a word;
And the crew likewise felt quite content,
Until the fore-and-aft rigging overboard went.
Then loudly for help to God they did cry,
And to their earnest prayer He did draw nigh;
And saved them from a watery grave,
When help from Him they did crave.
Poor souls they expected to be engulfed every hour,
And to appease their hunger they made dough with salt water and flour;
And made a sort of hard cake placed over a griddle hole,
To satisfy their hunger, which, alas! is hard to thole.
And two of these cakes each man got per day,
Which the poor creatures devoured in a ravenous way;
Along with a little fresh water to wash it down,
Which they most thankfully praised God for and didn't frown.
And on the 10th of December when they had burned their last light,
The ship "Orinoco" bound for New York hove in sight;
And they were rescued safely and taken on board,
And they thanked the Captain, and likewise the Lord.
Then the Captain of the "Orinoco" ordered her to be set on fire,
Which was quickly done as he did desire;
Which caused the rescued crew to stare in amaze,
And to take the last look of their schooner in a blaze.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Sonnet: Life’s Ambitions
If Life's a ship at sea with rafts and sail;
Our ambitions, the crew who steer it through;
And chance comes as a Wind or mighty gale,
That gives us success or our waterloo.
How must our Captain, Mind order his crew?
'The ship could sink, So, jump aboard, some men',
Keep ready the life-boats for saving few;
The rest can pray to God for quick haven.
Control, we must our desires, in life,
Our ambitions, need not be successful;
Life's safety first is what we choose in strife,
On Doomsday, soul must not be still sinful.
We aim to do the best we can on earth,
But ultimately, we aim for God's Mirth.
poem by John Celes
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The Jacket
Through the Plagues of Egyp' we was chasin' Arabi,
Gettin' down an' shovin' in the sun;
An' you might 'ave called us dirty, an' you might ha' called us dry,
An' you might 'ave 'eard us talkin' at the gun.
But the Captain 'ad 'is jacket, an' the jacket it was new --
('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!)
An' the wettin' of the jacket is the proper thing to do,
Nor we didn't keep 'im waitin' very long.
One day they gave us orders for to shell a sand redoubt,
Loadin' down the axle-arms with case;
But the Captain knew 'is dooty, an' he took the crackers out
An' he put some proper liquor in its place.
An' the Captain saw the shrapnel, which is six-an'-thirty clear.
('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!)
"Will you draw the weight," sez 'e, "or will you draw the beer?"
An' we didn't keep 'im waitin' very long.
~For the Captain, etc.~
Then we trotted gentle, not to break the bloomin' glass,
Though the Arabites 'ad all their ranges marked;
But we dursn't 'ardly gallop, for the most was bottled Bass,
An' we'd dreamed of it since we was disembarked:
So we fired economic with the shells we 'ad in 'and,
('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!)
But the beggars under cover 'ad the impidence to stand,
An' we couldn't keep 'em waitin' very long.
~And the Captain, etc.~
So we finished 'arf the liquor (an' the Captain took champagne),
An' the Arabites was shootin' all the while;
An' we left our wounded 'appy with the empties on the plain,
An' we used the bloomin' guns for pro-jec-tile!
We limbered up an' galloped -- there were nothin' else to do --
('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!)
An' the Battery came a-boundin' like a boundin' kangaroo,
But they didn't watch us comin' very long.
~As the Captain, etc.~
We was goin' most extended -- we was drivin' very fine,
An' the Arabites were loosin' 'igh an' wide,
Till the Captain took the glassy with a rattlin' right incline,
An' we dropped upon their 'eads the other side.
Then we give 'em quarter -- such as 'adn't up and cut,
('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!)
An' the Captain stood a limberful of fizzy -- somethin' Brutt,
But we didn't leave it fizzing very long.
~For the Captain, etc.~
We might ha' been court-martialled, but it all come out all right
When they signalled us to join the main command.
There was every round expended, there was every gunner tight,
An' the Captain waved a corkscrew in 'is 'and.
~But the Captain 'ad 'is jacket, etc.~
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald
The legend lives on from the chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called gitche gumee
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of november turn gloomy
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
Than the edmund fitzgerald weighed empty.
That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of november came early.
The ship was the pride of the american side
Coming back from some mill in wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and good captain well seasoned
Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for cleveland
And later that night when the ships bell rang
Could it be the north wind theyd been feelin?
The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the captain did too,
Twas the witch of november come stealin.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of november came slashin.
When afternoon came it was freezin rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind.
When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin.
Fellas, its too rough to feed ya.
At seven p.m. a main hatchway caved in, he said
Fellas, its been good tknow ya
The captain wired in he had water comin in
And the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when his lights went outta sight
Came the wreck of the edmund fitzgerald.
Does any one know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searches all say theyd have made whitefish bay
If theyd put fifteen more miles behind her.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
May have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters.
Lake huron rolls, superior sings
In the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old michigan steams like a young mans dreams;
The islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below lake ontario
Takes in what lake erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the gales of november remembered.
In a musty old hall in detroit they prayed,
In the maritime sailors cathedral.
The church bell chimed till it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the edmund fitzgerald.
The legend lives on from the chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call gitche gumee.
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of november come early!
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Cook’s Battle
The ship -cook was tired it had been a long day, the ship was old
full of cockroaches, one had found its way in his bread dough and
when the captain cut a slice of bread it was there, a brown raisin;
the old man had been very angry. The cook’s trouble was roaches
they were everywhere. He had asked to have the galley fumigated
when the ship was in dry dock, but no it was far too expensive.
Every week he boiled a big pan of water and squirted into corners,
it helped a bit and he had buckets full, but soon they were back
encroaching his galley. Then there were mites in the flour which
he had to sift before baking bread, not his fault yet he had to take
the flack. He often worked till late evening to keep the galley clean
he had even painted it so on the surface it looked bright and nice.
He was losing the battle against insects he often felt he was losing
his mind as well, they appeared in his dreams strangulating him.
Time was hard not easy to get a job, still when his ship docked in
Bombay he was off and the crew could get someone else to insult.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Captain Reece
Of all the ships upon the blue,
No ship contained a better crew
Than that of worthy CAPTAIN REECE,
Commanding of THE MANTELPIECE.
He was adored by all his men,
For worthy CAPTAIN REECE, R.N.,
Did all that lay within him to
Promote the comfort of his crew.
If ever they were dull or sad,
Their captain danced to them like mad,
Or told, to make the time pass by,
Droll legends of his infancy.
A feather bed had every man,
Warm slippers and hot-water can,
Brown windsor from the captain's store,
A valet, too, to every four.
Did they with thirst in summer burn,
Lo, seltzogenes at every turn,
And on all very sultry days
Cream ices handed round on trays.
Then currant wine and ginger pops
Stood handily on all the "tops;"
And also, with amusement rife,
A "Zoetrope, or Wheel of Life."
New volumes came across the sea
From MISTER MUDIE'S libraree;
THE TIMES and SATURDAY REVIEW
Beguiled the leisure of the crew.
Kind-hearted CAPTAIN REECE, R.N.,
Was quite devoted to his men;
In point of fact, good CAPTAIN REECE
Beatified THE MANTELPIECE.
One summer eve, at half-past ten,
He said (addressing all his men):
"Come, tell me, please, what I can do
To please and gratify my crew.
"By any reasonable plan
I'll make you happy if I can;
My own convenience count as NIL:
It is my duty, and I will."
Then up and answered WILLIAM LEE
(The kindly captain's coxswain he,
A nervous, shy, low-spoken man),
He cleared his throat and thus began:
"You have a daughter, CAPTAIN REECE,
Ten female cousins and a niece,
A Ma, if what I'm told is true,
Six sisters, and an aunt or two.
"Now, somehow, sir, it seems to me,
More friendly-like we all should be,
If you united of 'em to
Unmarried members of the crew.
"If you'd ameliorate our life,
Let each select from them a wife;
And as for nervous me, old pal,
Give me your own enchanting gal!"
Good CAPTAIN REECE, that worthy man,
Debated on his coxswain's plan:
"I quite agree," he said, "O BILL;
It is my duty, and I will.
"My daughter, that enchanting gurl,
Has just been promised to an Earl,
And all my other familee
To peers of various degree.
"But what are dukes and viscounts to
The happiness of all my crew?
The word I gave you I'll fulfil;
It is my duty, and I will.
"As you desire it shall befall,
I'll settle thousands on you all,
And I shall be, despite my hoard,
The only bachelor on board."
The boatswain of THE MANTELPIECE,
He blushed and spoke to CAPTAIN REECE:
"I beg your honour's leave," he said;
"If you would wish to go and wed,
"I have a widowed mother who
Would be the very thing for you -
She long has loved you from afar:
She washes for you, CAPTAIN R."
The Captain saw the dame that day -
Addressed her in his playful way -
"And did it want a wedding ring?
It was a tempting ickle sing!
"Well, well, the chaplain I will seek,
We'll all be married this day week
At yonder church upon the hill;
It is my duty, and I will!"
The sisters, cousins, aunts, and niece,
And widowed Ma of CAPTAIN REECE,
Attended there as they were bid;
It was their duty, and they did.
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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All Souls Day
All Souls Day
Suddenly a big hole opened up in the sea, the ship sank into it; the vessel
rests on the bottom where shiny star fish light up the dark before they are
swallowed by sharks.The captain on his bridge, cook in his galley, the first
engineer in the engine room, as it was dinner time when she sank, her crew
are in the mess room, dancing ghoulishly around as the sea gently sighs.
And sometimes the skeletal face of the deck boy peeks through a porthole
asks when the ship arrives in New York, a girlfriend waiting for him; there is
a moment of hilarity as dead sailors’ moves about free of man’s burden.
The cook rests in a in a large pot tells himself he must wake up, bake bread
and do the bloody the dishes as he tries to get his cigarette lighter to work.
Her captain bobs up and down trying to find his charts, maps of the oceans
currents and wonders why the radar isn’t working. The engineer is trying to
find out why the engine stalled. I knew them all, but dastardly left them in
Rio de Janeiro just because I met a girl called Maria.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Oh, My Captain
Oh, my Captain, my Captain
Where is that gleam in your eye?
Where is that sting
Whenever your colors fly?
Where is that thirst
for adventure you sail?
Where is that booming voice
Through oak will drive nail?
Oh, my Captain
Where could you be?
Thy gaze crosses
more than the sea
Where is the man
Who knows not any fears?
Who's cheated death
All these long years
Come Captain,
Where is thy cheer?
We sail into eternity
The rest is unclear
Oh Captain, oh Captain
Why such a sad soul?
It's treasure and loot
So much we have stole
Oh, master, my master
We are, and can no more be
Like the birds,
We are free as long as we breathe
Come Captain, my Captain
Give us command
Give 'weigh all the anchors'
Seek ye new harbors with warm golden sand
to Captain Cur
poem by Midnights Voice
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On A Sunny Sunday
On a Sunny Day, You can See Forever.
The u-boat that cast anchor on the silky beach of Albufeira
the crew was dressed in German world war two uniforms,
bathers thought they were actors in a movie.
The captain came ashore he wanted to call Lisbon, to his
embassy, only the number didn’t exist anymore. He wanted
to surrender, his crew hungry and tired.
A kind barman gave the captain a cold beer, he drank it
greedily and asked what year this was.2011.
“My god” he exclaimed we have landed in a wrong century.
He walked back to his u-boat, a neat man every bit a hero.
The submarine, rusty, looking as it had been at the bottom of
the sea for ages, hoisted anchor, sailed into the blue yonder.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Fit the Second ( Hunting of the Snark )
The Bellman's Speech
The Bellman himself they all praised to the skies--
Such a carriage, such ease and such grace!
Such solemnity, too! One could see he was wise,
The moment one looked in his face!
He had bought a large map representing the sea,
Without the least vestige of land:
And the crew were much pleased when they found it to be
A map they could all understand.
"What's the good of Mercator's North Poles and Equators,
Tropics, Zones, and Meridian Lines?"
So the Bellman would cry: and the crew would reply
"They are merely conventional signs!
"Other maps are such shapes, with their islands and capes!
But we've got our brave Captain to thank"
(So the crew would protest) "that he's bought us the best--
A perfect and absolute blank!"
This was charming, no doubt: but they shortly found out
That the Captain they trusted so well
Had only one notion for crossing the ocean
And that was to tingle his bell.
He was thoughtful and grave--but the orders he gave
Were enough to bewilder a crew.
When he cried "Steer to starboard, but keep her head larboard!"
What on earth was the helmsman to do?
Then the bowsprit got mixed with the rudder sometimes:
A thing, as the Bellman remarked,
That frequently happens in tropical climes,
When a vessel is, so to speak, "snarked".
But the principal failing occurred in the sailing,
And the Bellman, perplexed and distressed,
Said he had hoped, at least, when the wind blew due East,
That the ship would not travel due West!
But the danger was past--they had landed at last,
With their boxes, portmanteaus, and bags:
Yet at first sight the crew were not pleased with the view
Which consisted of chasms and crags.
The Bellman perceived that their spirits were low,
And repeated in musical tone
Some jokes he had kept for a season of woe--
But the crew would do nothing but groan.
He served out some grog with a liberal hand,
And bade them sit down on the beach:
And they could not but own that their Captain looked grand,
As he stood and delivered his speech.
"Friends, Romans, and countrymen, lend me your ears!"
(They were all of them fond of quotations:
So they drank to his health, and they gave him three cheers,
While he served out additional rations).
"We have sailed many months, we have sailed many weeks,
(Four weeks to the month you may mark),
But never as yet ('tis your Captain who speaks)
Have we caught the least glimpse of a Snark!
"We have sailed many weeks, we have sailed many days,
(Seven days to the week I allow),
But a Snark, on the which we might lovingly gaze,
We have never beheld till now!
"Come, listen, my men, while I tell you again
The five unmistakable marks
By which you may know, wheresoever you go,
The warranted genuine Snarks.
"Let us take them in order. The first is the taste,
Which is meagre and hollow, but crisp:
Like a coat that is rather too tight in the waist,
With a flavour of Will-o'-the-Wisp.
"Its habit of getting up late you'll agree
That it carries too far, when I say
That it frequently breakfasts at five-o'clock tea,
And dines on the following day.
"The third is its slowness in taking a jest.
Should you happen to venture on one,
It will sigh like a thing that is deeply distressed:
And it always looks grave at a pun.
"The fourth is its fondness for bathing-machines,
Which it constantly carries about,
And believes that they add to the beauty of scenes--
A sentiment open to doubt.
"The fifth is ambition. It next will be right
To describe each particular batch:
Distinguishing those that have feathers, and bite,
From those that have whiskers, and scratch.
"For, although common Snarks do no manner of harm,
Yet I feel it my duty to say
Some are Boojums--" The Bellman broke off in alarm,
For the Baker had fainted away.
poem by Lewis Carroll
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You're The Captain
I'd crawl a mile,
I'd climb the highest hill.
To bring you back to
A life that's real
You burned your mind out,
With your foolish games
May you lie there helpless,
Will you ever be the same.
You're the captain,
The leader of your ship.
Don't get captured (captured),
Cause you just might never quit.
You're the captain,
I hope you realize,
Don't be a fool,
Better open up your eyes.
I've traveled this world,
I've seen most of it.
I've seen the best ones
Go down with the ship.
Fortune and fame,
They don't mean a thing.
When you're hooked on junk,
That's your only game.
You're the captain,
The leader of your ship.
Don't get captured (captured),
Cause you just might never quit.
You're the captain,
I hope you realize,
Don't be a fool,
Better open up your eyes.
Just a part of life,
That we all must go through.
Gettin' high with friends,
Was all in being cool.
Hope you never see, this misery.
A prisoner by drugs
With no right to be free.
You're the captain,
The leader of your ship.
Don't get captured (captured),
Cause you just might never quit.
You're the captain,
I hope you realize,
Don't be a fool,
Better open up your eyes.
You're the captain,
The leader of your ship.
Don't get captured (captured),
Cause you just might never quit.
You're the captain,
I hope you realize,
Don't be a fool,
Better open up your eyes.
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wreck of the "Julie Plante": A Legend of Lac St. Pierre
1 On wan dark night on Lac St. Pierre,
2 De win' she blow, blow, blow,
3 An' de crew of de wood scow "Julie Plante"
4 Got scar't an' run below—
5 For de win' she blow lak hurricane,
6 Bimeby she blow some more,
7 An' de scow bus' up on Lac St. Pierre
8 Wan arpent from de shore.
9 De captinne walk on de fronte deck,
10 An' walk de hin' deck too—
11 He call de crew from up de hole,
12 He call de cook also.
13 De cook she 's name was Rosie,
14 She come from Montreal,
15 Was chambre maid on lumber barge,
16 On de Grande Lachine Canal.
17 De win' she blow from nor' -eas' -wes',--
18 De sout' win' she blow too,
19 W'en Rosie cry, "Mon cher captinne,
20 Mon cher, w'at I shall do ?"
21 Den de captinne t'row de beeg ankerre,
22 But still de scow she dreef,
23 De crew he can't pass on de shore,
24 Becos' he los' hees skeef.
25 De night was dark lak wan black cat,
26 De wave run high an' fas',
27 W'en de captinne tak' de Rosie girl
28 An' tie her to de mas'.
29 Den he also tak' de life preserve,
30 An' jomp off on de lak',
31 An' say, "Good-bye, ma Rosie dear,
32 I go drown for your sak'."
33 Nex' morning very early
34 'Bout ha'f-pas' two—t'ree—four—
35 De captinne—scow—an' de poor Rosie
36 Was corpses on de shore,
37 For de win' she blow lak hurricane,
38 Bimeby she blow some more,
39 An' de scow bus' up on Lac St. Pierre,
40 Wan arpent from de shore.
MORAL
41 Now all good wood scow sailor man
42 Tak' warning by dat storm
43 An' go an' marry some nice French girl
44 An' leev on wan beeg farm.
45 De win' can blow lak hurricane
46 An' s'pose she blow some more,
47 You can't get drown on Lac St. Pierre
48 So long you stay on shore.
poem by William Henry Drummond
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The Song at Cock-Crow
1918 -- Ille autem iterum negavit.
The first time that Peter denied his Lord
He shrank from the cudgel, the scourge and the cord,
But followed far off to see what they would do,
Till the cock crew--till the cock crew--
After Gethsemane, till the cock crew!
The first time that Peter denied his Lord
'Twas only a maid in the palace who heard,
As he sat by the fire and warmed himself through.
Then the cock crew! Then the cock crew!
("Though also art one of them.") Then the cock crew!
The first time that Peter denied his Lord
He had neither the Throne, nor the Keys nor the Sword--
A poor silly fisherman, what could he do,
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
But weep for his wickedness when the cock crew?
. . . . . .
The next time that Peter denied his Lord
He was Fisher of Men, as foretold by the Word,
With the Crown on his brow and the Cross on his shoe,
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
In Flanders and Picardy when the cock crew!
The next time that Peter denied his Lord
'Twas Mary the Mother in Heaven Who heard,
She grieved for the maidens and wives that they slew
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
At Tirmonde and Aerschott when the cock crew!
The next time that Peter denied his Lord
The Babe in the Manger awakened and stirred,
And He stretched out His arms for the playmates
He knew--
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
But the waters had covered them when the cock crew!
The next time that Peter denied his Lord
'Twas Earth in her agony waited his word,
But he sat by the fire and naught would he do,
Though the cock crew--though the cock crew--
Over all Christendom, though the cock crew!
The last time that Peter denied his Lord,
The Father took from him the Keys and the Sword,
And the Mother and Babe brake his Kingdom in two,
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
(Because of his wickedness) when the cock crew!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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