En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Payback!

We'd flown on up from Townsville
To patrol the northern gulf,
It was just a routine flight, and we
Felt lazy, after lunch,
With a pale blue sky above us
And an azure sea below,
I just felt like turning turtle,
Napping out, while things were slow.

I remember that the Beatles came
Across the intercom,
Sang a song from Sergeant Peppers
Of some Lonely Hearts Club Band,
I was down there in the nose cone
Strapped and buckled to my seat,
Feeling warm and safe and cozy
In the tropics, in the heat.

While down in Carpentaria
The water was sublime,
We'd flown this great expanse before
A hundred, thousand times
Looking out for those illegals,
Indonesian fishing boats,
Fishing in our charted waters,
Stealing fish from round our coast.

There were seven in the Neptune,
We were short on crew that day,
Just the Captain and co-pilot
And a Navigator, Ray,
The Rad-tech keeping cover
On the sonar, 'Jezebel',
The others taking turns on M.A.D.,
The stinger in the tail.

While I was the Observer, and
I should have been alert,
Keeping watch on the horizon,
There was nothing to report,
I could hear the others mumble
Through the sleepy afternoon,
Then a bell went off, the 'Snifter'
And it galvanized the crew.

The Captain ordered 'Sonar' and
We blasted off a buoy,
Flew on a dozen miles or so
Then dropped another toy,
The 'Jezebel' was chattering
And M.A.D. was cutting in,
Its Anomaly Detection showed
A fish - but made of tin.

I scanned to the horizon but
Saw nothing in my view,
Reported to the Captain, he
Barked orders to the crew,
The Rad-tech on the 'Jezebel'
Yelled, 'Whoopee - listen Bub,
I'm reading off a Russian code,
We've got ourselves a sub! '

I felt the nose begin to dip,
And roll toward the port,
It looked like we were going down
To check the Russian out,
When suddenly a water spout
Appeared from down below,
I yelled up through the intercom:
'Missile - Missile - Go! '

It only seemed a moment that
I braced myself, and then,
The nose-cone shattered, opened up
And left me hanging there,
The wind was like a howling gale
And took my breath away,
I hit the buckles, twisted round
And made for the crawlway.

They pulled me through the tunnel
Bleeding cuts across my face,
'What happened, are we going in? '
No-one was game to say,
The pilot pulled back on the stick
And took her round to port,
'The missile just glanced off us,
Or we wouldn't be here, Sport! '

I heard the Captain rage and swear
Across the intercom,
'That bastards got it coming, he
Won't know where it's coming from! '
We're not supposed to fire on them
The U.N. won't be chuffed,
But after that, I think he knows
That all the bets are off! '

The Neppy brought its nose around
And set off in pursuit,
We dropped two other sonar buoys,
The sub was heading out,
At just above a thousand feet
He said, 'Just let her rip! '
And dropped a dozen depth charges
On that Russian ship.

The water just erupted in
An agony of white,
A swirling burst of bubbles said
Our targeting was right,
And then a long, black shape had leapt
Nose first up from the sea,
We saw it had a broken back,
It sank there, instantly.

We limped our way to Katherine
And landed in the gloom,
A host of men in suits were there,
They shut us in a room,
Then all of us were made to sign
Some forms before we left,
Headed - 'The Official Secrets Act',
They scared us half to death.

I think that I can tell you now,
It's forty years this year,
That in the placid waters of
Gulf Carpentaria,
There lies a sunken, rusted wreck,
A Hammer-Sickle crest,
That took on a single Neptune there,
And well... you know the rest!

27 December 2008

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Pilot Who Never Came Back

The mist was rolling in clouds, opaque
As I hurried along the line,
Looking for A3-22
The Mirage of Lieutenant Devine,
There wasn't much hope of flying time
If the weather didn't improve,
But I still had an Instrument Pre-Flight
‘Just in case, ' said the Duty Crew.

‘You never know with Devine, ' they said,
‘He'd fly in a howling gale,
At the first swift burst of sunlight, he'll
Be sitting right here on your tail,
Trying to give you the hurry-ups
As you strap him into the seat,
A bit of a caution is Jack Devine…'
‘A pain in the arse, ' said Skeet.

Skeet was the Armament Fitter that
I found under 22,
Fitting the Matra Missile there,
And a sidewinder, or two.
‘Where the hell is he going, this
Is more than a training run! '
‘He's going on out to the firing range
Out there, past Avalon! '

Devine appeared in the mist, while
Taking the pitot covers off,
I pulled all the undercarriage pins
As he gave me the hurry-up,
‘I'm going the moment the mist has cleared,
So do what you have to do! '
I climbed in, ran up the gyro's
Checked out the auto-pilot, too.

He wouldn't wait for a moment
So I threaded his lanyards through,
Pulled out the Martin-Baker pin
And held it out for his view,
He sat on the live ejection seat
Took whiffs of the oxygen,
And sat impatient, drumming his feet
‘Til a little bit after ten.

I stood by the guy on the battery cart
To wait for the mist to clear,
The pilot gave thumbs up for a start
We could finally disappear,
We watched him heading off down the strip
With a roar like an avatar,
And headed on back to the duty hut,
‘He'll be back in less than an hour! '

We grabbed a coffee, an hour went by,
But still no sign of Devine,
The Gunny had given a meaningful look,
He was cutting it more than fine,
He wasn't fitted with dropp tanks, so
An hour was all that he'd got,
We phoned the guys in the tower, and asked,
‘Is he overdue, or what? '

It was then that A3-22
Came screaming over the strip,
Smoke was streaming out of its tail,
Black as a coal mine pit,
He turned and landed, the fire trucks
Were waiting to put it out,
A pool of kerosine lay in the tail,
As Devine came tumbling out.

His face was thunderous, back in the hut
Where he signed the duty log,
But he kept his visor firmly shut,
Then turned, and he just stalked off,
I didn't see him again, but heard
He'd tried to report us all,
He blamed the erks for the whole damn works,
Said the engine nearly stalled.

He left the following morning for
Another Miracle flight,
We didn't go out to look for him
‘Til the day turned into night,
We never discovered his plane at all,
It's missing still, at sea,
But his wife was down in the hospital,
And that was what interested me.

She'd been admitted with cuts and scrapes
And scratches down to her feet,
They said that she was hysterical,
Was babbling in white heat,
‘I haven't a clue who that pilot was
Dressed in my husband's clothes,
But it wasn't my Jack Devine, ' she said,
‘And I think that a wife would know! '

She said he'd taken her there by force,
And raked her body with claws,
He'd bitten her shoulder ‘til it bled,
She couldn't fathom the cause.
He'd looked like her husband, walking in,
But then his body had changed,
‘He looked like he had a scaly skin
And his face was rearranged! '

The last that I heard of Jean Devine
Was in June, the following year,
She'd gone to deliver her baby
But was shaking in dread, and fear,
They told her that it had been stillborn
And refused to show her its face,
Or the tiny body scales it had,
Unknown to the human race!

18 September 2012

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Captain Von Esson of the “Sebastopol”

Of his beauty, or stature, or colour of hair I hadn’t the slightest hint,
But he comes to me as a little man, with a scrubby beard and a squint,
With a heart somewhere if it wasn’t there, and an Irish terrier nose,
With a bark or a yelp for his friends and his crew, and a bull-dog grip for his foes.
The Japs had taken a permanent fort at the price of ten thousand sons,
And they shelled the ships in the harbour there with their landed naval guns.
Through sand bags laid on the upper deck, the shells went through with a whelt—
And some (because of ballistic curve) out under the armoured belt.

Till each was sunk that the Russians left—while the buildings reeled with the shock,
Save the last of the Russian ships of war—the Sebastopol—in dock.
And this is the reason—told in a line—why there is a tale to tell:
The Sebastopol had a man for boss, and a crew that knew it well.

He rousted them out from the dens ashore, and they didn’t engage in prayer,
For dear men pray when the fight is done, and there wasn’t a cheap man there.
He rooted the dock-hands out, when crouched, in deadly fear of the Jap,
But they stood in greater immediate fear of Von Esson’s squint and his yap.

She groped her way in the gathering dusk, out under the time-dulled din,
And nothing was heard save a whispered word, and the laugh of a Russian Finn.
He took her out from the harbour trap, where the shells came down like hail,
For a chance to fight for the Wrong or Right round under the “Lizard’s Tail.”

My fathers came from the North, my friends, when there was a world to win;
And something hints of the Northern Wolf in the laugh of a Russian Finn;
A sailor he was, with gorilla arms, and a mighty, hairy chest—
’T was a laugh of love for his captain man, and a laugh of hate for the rest.

There is neither the time nor the space to tell of the deeds that those Russians did;
Three days on the toppling lid of hell, like an ill-made cauldron’s lid.
The breathless pause ere the flashlight fell where the creeping foe was hid,
The blood-streaked decks, and the grunt or yell, when the stricken slipped and slid.

The faces white in a sudden light, and the ghostly dying grin,
The great relief when the silence broke, and they revelled in Hell’s own din.
The blinding flash and the stunning crash—strained ears—strained eyes—dry skin—
The short sharp yelp of that captain man, and—the laugh of the Russian Finn.

’T was not for Cause nor for Liberty, Religion, or Glory, or Land—
He fought for love of a captain man he could crush with his big right hand.
Till five torpedo boats round her lay, in the mud, the slush, and the ooze—
She sent them down for the Old Greek Church, with the whole of their monkey crews.

But the last one gave her a last thrust home, and left by a friendly tide,
She lay like a man on his elbow raised, with a hand on her wounded side.
She was left to be called for later on, with a solid bank beneath—
The Japs were short of torpedo boats, and—they’d had enough of her teeth.

But, safe from the landed naval guns, and the last torpedo boat,
Von Esson worked with his squint and bark till he got his vessel afloat.
He’d marked her a grave with his level eye where the open sea was fair,
And he steered her out to the deep water, and he grimly sank her there.

(It’s oh, for a chance when a man of men must live the living lie—
For a chance to live as a man might live, and die as a man might die!
When one is a slave to paltry things in a life that never can change,
It’s oh! for a cause, and a decent gun, and a hundred rounds, and the range!)

The boats slipped in in the gathering dusk, and under the time-dulled din,
And vanished from us to a yap of command, and the grunt of a Russian Finn.
But somewhere down in a seamen’s den (maybe, perhaps within hail),
There’s a drunken rabble of sailor men, and a Finn that tells a tale.

poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Captain Hook

Captain Hook must remember
Not to scratch his toes.
Captain Hook must watch out
And never pick his nose.
Captain Hook must be gentle
When he shakes your hand.
Captain Hook must be careful
Openin' sardine cans
And playing tag and pouring tea
And turnin' pages of his book.
Lots of folks I'm glad I ain't--
But mostly Captain Hook!

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Closer To Home / I'm Your Captain

Everybody listen to me
And return me my ship
I'm your captain
I'm your captain
Though I'm feeling mighty sick
I've been lost now for days uncounted
And it's months since I've seen home
Can you hear me? Can you hear me?
Or am I all alone?
If you return me to my home port
I will kiss you Mother Earth
Take me back now
Take me back now
To the port of my birth
(bridge)
Am I in my cabin dreaming?
Or are you really scheming
To take my ship away from me?
You'd better think about it
I just can't live without it
So please don't take my ship from me
I can feel the hand of a stranger
And it's tightening around my throat
Heaven help me
Heaven help me
Take this stranger from my boat
I'm your captain
I'm your captain
Though I'm feeling mighty sick
Everybody listen to me
And return me my ship
I'm your captain
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I'm your captain
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I'm your captain
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I'm your captain
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah...
I'm getting closer to my home
I'm getting closer to my home
I'm getting closer to my home (repeat until fade).

song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Closer To Home

(m&l - farner)
Everybody listen to me
And return me
My ship
Im your captain
Im your captain
No Im feeling mighty sick
Ive been lost now
Days uncounted
And its months since
Ive seen home
Can you hear me
Can you hear me
Oh am I all alone
If you return me
To my home port
I will kiss you
Mother earth
Take me back now
Take me back now
To the port
Of my birth
To the port
Of my birth
Am I in my cabin dreaming
Or are you really schemeing
To take my ship away from me?
You better think about it
I just cant live without it
So please dont take my ship from me
Yeah yeah yeah
I can feel the hand
Of the stranger
As its tightening
Around my throat
Heaven help me
Heaven help me
Take this stranger
From my boat
Im your captain
Im your captain
Though Im feeling mighty sick
Everybody listen to me
And return me my ship
Im your captain
Yeah yeah yeah, m getting closer to my home

song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

North Atlantic Sea

The North Atlantic Sea raged bitter cold
as a convoy of ships sailed swiftly as could be.
A wolf pack of submarines
were waiting somewhere
beneath the cold waters there.
Everyone scanned the icy waters
for some tell tale sign
as the merchant navy steamed on.
A destroyer was their bodyguard
in case trouble flared.
The sky’s clouds were grey
and filled with snow and followed them
into the eastern horizon.
Suddenly an enormous explosion
lit up the sky.
A U-boat had hit a target
and many brave men
were heading for a watery grave.
The destroyer raced towards the stricken ship
as another explosion rocked the sea.
The U-boats were finding their targets.
The destroyer disengaged
and started a depth charge run.
The merchant ships could only steam ahead
as fast as they could
through the icy water
of the North Atlantic Sea.
The destroyer circled again and again,
until finally the bow of a U-boat
surfaced off the port side.
Sailors jumped into the waters
hoping to save their lives.
The destroyer’s Captain ordered
lifeboats to be lowered
to save as many as he could.
Two dozen lives were saved that day
in a bleak November.
The destroyer then went back
to help the merchant men.
Several of the merchant fleet
had slowed and picked up survivors there.
However, many were lost
to the North Atlantic Sea
on this day in the life
of one convoy during the war,
and the brave men
who faced terrible conditions there
on a cruel sea.

12 February 2008

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Sea Ballad - From

“HOW many?” said our good Captain.
“Twenty sail and more.”
We were homeward bound,
Scudding in a gale with our jib towards the Nore.
Right athwart our tack,
The foe came thick and black,
Like Hell-birds and foul weather—you might count them by the score.

The Betsy Jane did slack
To see the game in view.
They knew the Union-Jack,
And the tyrant’s flag we knew!
Our Captain shouted “Clear the decks!” and the Bo’sun’s whistle blew.

Then our gallant Captain,
With his hand he seiz’d the wheel,
And pointed with his stump to the middle of the foe.
“Hurray, lads, in we go!”
(You should hear the British cheer,
Fore and aft.)

“There are twenty sail,” sang he,
“But little Betsy Jane bobs to nothing on the sea!”
(You should hear the British cheer,
Fore and aft.)

“See you ugly craft
With the pennon at her main!
Hurrah, my merry boys,
There goes the Betsy Jane!”
(You should hear the British cheer,
Fore and aft.)

The foe, he beats to quarters, and the Russian bugles sound;
And the little Betsy Jane she leaps upon the sea.
“Port and starboard!” cried our Captain;
“Pay it in, my hearts!” sang he.

“We ’re old England’s sons,
And we ’ll fight for her to-day!”
(You should hear the British cheer.
Fore and aft.)
“Fire away!”
In she runs,
And her guns
Thunder round.

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Old Superb

The wind was rising easterly, the morning sky was blue,
The Straits before us opened wide and free;
We looked towards the Admiral, where high the Peter flew,
And all our hearts were dancing like the sea.
'The French are gone to Martinique with four and twenty sail!
The Old _Superb_ is old and foul and slow,
But the French are gone to Martinique, and Nelson's on the trail.
And where he goes the Old _Superb_ must go!'

So Westward ho! for Trinidad, and Eastward ho! for Spain,
And 'Ship ahoy!' a hundred times a day;
Round the world if need be, and round the world again,
With a lame duck lagging all the way.

The Old _Superb_ was barnacled and green as grass below,
Her sticks were only fit for stirring grog;
The pride of all her midshipmen was silent long ago,
And long ago they ceased to heave the log.
Four year out from home she was, and ne'er a week in port,
And nothing save the guns aboard her bright;
But Captain Keats he knew the game, and swore to share the sport,
For he never yet came in too late to fight.

So Westward ho! for Trinidad, and Eastward ho! for Spain,
And 'Ship ahoy!' a hundred times a day;
Round the world if need be, and round the world again,
With a lame duck lagging all the way.

'Now up, my lads,' the Captain cried, 'for sure the case were hard
If longest out were first to fall behind;
Aloft, aloft with studding sails, and lash them on the yard,
For night and day the Trades are driving blind!'
So all day long and all day long behind the fleet we crept,
And how we fretted none but Nelson guessed;
But every night the Old _Superb_ she sailed when others slept,
Till we ran the French to earth with all the rest.

Oh, 'twas Westward ho! for Trinidad, and Eastward ho! for Spain,
And 'Ship ahoy!' a hundred times a day;
Round the world if need be, and round the world again,
With a lame duck lagging all the way.

poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Im Your Captain

Everybody, listen to me,
And return me, my ship.
Im your captain, Im your captain,
Although Im feeling mighty sick.
Ive been lost now, days uncounted,
And its months since Ive seen home.
Can you hear me, can you hear me,
Or am I all alone.
If you return me, to my home port,
I will kiss you mother earth.
Take me back now, take me back now,
To the port of my birth.
Am I in my cabin dreaming, or are you really scheming,
To take my ship away from me?
Youd better think about it, I just cant live without it.
So, please dont take my ship from me.
Yeah, yeah, yeah ...
I can feel the hand, of a stranger,
And its tightening, around my throat.
Heaven help me, heaven help me,
Take this stranger from my boat.
Im your captain, Im your captain,
Although Im feeling mighty sick.
Everybody, listen to me,
And return me, my ship.
Im your captain, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Im your captain, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Im your captain, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Im your captain, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Im getting closer to my home ...
Im getting closer to my home ...
Im getting closer to my home ...
Im getting closer to my home ...
Ohhhh ...
Im getting closer to my home ...
Im getting closer to my home ...
Im getting closer to my home ...
Im getting closer to my home ...
Repeated to fade

song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Captain Carpenter

Captain Carpenter rose up in his prime
Put on his pistols and went riding out
But had got wellnigh nowhere at that time
Till he fell in with ladies in a rout.

It was a pretty lady and all her train
That played with him so sweetly but before
An hour she'd taken a sword with all her main
And twined him of his nose for evermore.

Captain Carpenter mounted up one day
And rode straightway into a stranger rogue
That looked unchristian but be that as may
The Captain did not wait upon prologue.

But drew upon him out of his great heart
The other swung against him with a club
And cracked his two legs at the shinny part
And let him roll and stick like any tub.

Captain Carpenter rode many a time
From male and female took he sundry harms
He met the wife of Satan crying "I'm
The she-wolf bids you shall bear no more arms.

Their strokes and counters whistled in the wind
I wish he had delivered half his blows
But where she should have made off like a hind
The bitch bit off his arms at the elbows.

And Captain Carpenter parted with his ears
To a black devil that used him in this wise
O Jesus ere his threescore and ten years
Another had plucked out his sweet blue eyes.

Captain Carpenter got up on his roan
And sallied from the gate in hell's despite
I heard him asking in the grimmest tone
If any enemy yet there was to fight?

"To any adversary it is fame
If he risk to be wounded by my tongue
Or burnt in two beneath my red heart's flame
Such are the perils he is cast among.

"But if he can he has a pretty choice
From an anatomy with little to lose
Whether he cut my tongue and take my voice
Or whether it be my round red heart he choose. "

It was the neatest knave that ever was seen
Stepping in perfume from his lady's bower
Who at this word put in his merry mien
And fell on Captain Carpenter like a tower.

I would not knock old fellows in the dust
But there lay Captain Carpenter on his back
His weapons were the old heart in his bust
And a blade shook between rotten teeth alack.

The rogue in scarlet and grey soon knew his mind.
He wished to get his trophy and depart
With gentle apology and touch refined
He pierced him and produced the Captain's heart.

God's mercy rest on Captain Carpenter now (a,
I thought him Sirs an honest gentleman
Citizen husband soldier and scholar enow
Let jangling kites eat of him if they can.

But God's deep curses follow after those
That shore him of his goodly nose and ears
His legs and strong arms at the two elbows
And eyes that had not watered seventy years.

The curse of hell upon the sleek upstart
That got the Captain finally on his back
And took the red red vitals of his heart
And made the kites to whet their beaks clack clack.

poem by John Crowe Ransom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Closer To Home

I'm Your Captain
Grand Funk Railroad
Mark Farner
The tune that is remembered as "Closer To Home", is actually labeled "I'm
Your Captain" on both the album sleeve and record label. It is from the
album "Closer To Home", released by Grand Funk Railroad in June of 1970.
Everybody,
listen to me,
and return me, my ship.
I'm your captain, I'm your captain,
though I'm feeling mighty sick.
I've been lost now,
days uncounted,
and it's months since,
I've seen home.
Can you hear me, can you hear me,
or am I all alone?
If you return me,
to my home port,
I will kiss you,
mother earth.
Take me back now, take me back now,
to the port, of my birth.
Am I in my cabin dreaming,
or are you really scheming,
to take my ship away from me.
You'd better think about it,
I jsut can't live without it,
so please don't take my ship from me.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
I can feel the hand,
of a stranger,
and it tightening,
around my throat.
Heaven help me, heaven help me,
take this stranger, from my boat.
I'm your captain, I'm your captain,
though I'm feeling mighty sick.
Everybody, listen to me,
and return me, my ship,
I'm your captain, yeah yeah yeah yeah
I'm your captain, yeah yeah yeah yeah
I'm your captain, yeah yeah yeah yeah
I'm your captain, yeah yeah yeah yeah
I'm getting closer to my home.
I'm getting closer to my home.
transcribed by Steve McClurg ([email protected])

song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

The Collision in the English Channel

'Twas on a Sunday morning, and in the year of 1888,
The steamer "Saxmundham," laden with coal and coke for freight,
Was run into amidships by the Norwegian barque "Nor,"
And sunk in the English Channel, while the storm fiend did roar.

She left Newcastle on Friday, in November, about two o'clock,
And proceeded well on her way until she received a shock;
And the effects of the collision were so serious within,
That, within twenty minutes afterwards, with water she was full to the brim.

The effects of the collision were so serious the water cduldn't be staunched,
So immediately the "Saxmundham's" jolly-boat was launched;
While the brave crew were busy, and loudly did clatter,
Because, at this time, the stem of the steamer was under water.

Then the bold crew launched the lifeboat, without dismay,
While their hearts did throb, but not a word did they say;
They they tried to launch the port lifeboat, but in that they failed,
Owing to the heavy sea, so their sad fate they bewailed.

Then into the jolly-boat and lifeboat jumped fifteen men in all,
And immediately the steamer foundered, which did their hearts appal,
As the good ship sank beneath the briny wave,
But they thanked God fervently that did them save.

Oh! it was a miracle how any of them were saved,
But it was by the aid of God, and how the crew behaved;
Because God helps those that help themselves,
And those that don't try to do so are silly elves.

So the two boats cruised about for some time,
Before it was decided to pull for St. Catherine;
And while cruising about they must have been ill,
But they succeeded in picking up an engineer and fireman, also Captain Milne.

And at daybreak on Sunday morning the men in the lifeboat
Were picked up by the schooner "Waterbird" as towards her they did float,
And landed at Weymouth, and made all right
By the authorities, who felt for them in their sad plight.

But regarding the barque "Nor," to her I must return,
And, no doubt, for the drowned men, many will mourn;
Because the crew's sufferings must have been great,
Which, certainly, is soul-harrowing to relate.

The ill-fated barque was abandoned in a sinking state,
But all her crew were saved, which I'm happy to relate;
They were rescued by the steamer "Hagbrook" in the afternoon,
When after taking to their boats, and brought to Portland very soon.

The barque "Nor" was bound from New York to Stettin,
And when she struck the "Saxmundham," oh! what terrible din!
Because the merciless water did rush in,
Then the ship carpenters to patch the breach did begin.

But, alas! all their efforts proved in vain,
For still the water did on them gain;
Still they resolved to save her whatever did betide,
But, alas! the ill-fated "Nor" sank beneath the tide.

But thanks be to God, the major part of the men have been saved,
And all honour to both crews that so manfully behaved;
And may God protect the mariner by night and by day
When on the briny deep, far, far away!

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Vote! | Copy!

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
Vote! | Copy!

The Wreck of the Barque Wm. Paterson of Liverpool

Ye landsmen all attend my verse, and I'll tell to ye a tale
Concerning the barque "Wm. Paterson" that was lost in a tempestuous gale;
She was on a voyage from Bangkok to the Clyde with a cargo of Teakwood,
And the crew numbered Fifteen in all of seamen firm and good.

'Twas on the 11th of March, when a violent gale from the southward broke out,
And for nine days during tempestuous weather their ship was tossed about
By the angry sea, and the barque she sprang a leak,
Still the crew wrought at the pumps till their hearts were like to break.

And the pumps were kept constantly going for fourteen long hours,
And the poor men were drenched to the skin with sea spray showers;
Still they wrougnt at the pumps till they became rather clogged
Until at last the barque became thoroughly water-logged.

Oh! hard was the fate of these brave men,
While the water did rush in from stern to stem,
Poor souls,'twas enough to have driven them frantic,
To be drifting about water-logged in the Atlantic. At last she became unmanageable and her masts had to be cut away,
Which the brave crew performed quickly without delay;
Still gales of more or less violence prevailed every day,
Whilst the big waves kept dashing o'er them, likewise the spray.

And with the fearful hurricane the deckhouse and galley were carried away,
Yet the thought of a speedy deliverance kept up their courage day by day,
And the captain prepared for the breaking up of the ship without dismay,
And to save his rations he reduced each man to two biscuits a day.

The brave heroes managed to save a pinnace about fifteen feet long,
And into it thirteen of the crew quickly and cautiously did throng,
With two bags of biscuits and a cask of water out of the tank.
And for these precious mercies, God they did thank;

Who is the giver of all good things,
And to those that put their trust in him often succour brings
And such has been the case with these brave men at sea,
That sent Captain McMullan to save them and bring them to Dundee.

When once into the pinnace they improvised a sail into a tent,
Which to the crew some little shelter lent;
Still every day they were drifting towards the coast of Greenland,
Yet they hoped in God that speedy deliverance might be near at hand.

And as every day passed by they felt woe begone,
Because no sail could they see on the horizon;
And they constructed a sea anchor to keep the boat's head to sea,
And not withstanding their hardships they stood out bravely.

And on the 19th of March a ship hove in sight,
Which proved to be the "Slieve Roe" to their delight;
Then they hoisted a signal of distress when they espied the "Slieve Roe,"
But it was not seen on account of the wreck being in the water so low.

But as soon as Captain McMullan knew it was a signal of distress,
Then heroically and quickly his men he did address,
He cried! come my men keep the ship close to the wind,
And let's try if we can these unfortunate souls find.

And as the "Slieve Roe" to them drew near,
Poor souls they gave a hearty cheer;
Then they were immediately taken on board,
And they thanked Captain McMullan for saving them, likewise the Lord.

Then a crew from the "Slieve Roe" were sent away,
For the two remaining members of the crew without delay;
The Captain and a Sailor, together with a cat and a pet dog,
Which had been the companions of the sailors, and seemed as frisky as a frog.

And when they had all got safe on board,
With one accord they thanked the Lord;
And Captain McMullan kindly did them treat,
By giving them dry clothing and plenty of meat.

And for his kind treatment unto them he deserves great praise,
For his many manly and kindly ways,
By saving so many lives during the time he has been at sea,
And in particular for fetching the crew of the "Wm. Paterson" safe to Dundee.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Captain and the Mermaids

I SING a legend of the sea,
So hard-a-port upon your lee!
A ship on starboard tack!
She's bound upon a private cruise -
(This is the kind of spice I use
To give a salt-sea smack).

Behold, on every afternoon
(Save in a gale or strong Monsoon)
Great CAPTAIN CAPEL CLEGGS
(Great morally, though rather short)
Sat at an open weather-port
And aired his shapely legs.

And Mermaids hung around in flocks,
On cable chains and distant rocks,
To gaze upon those limbs;
For legs like those, of flesh and bone,
Are things "not generally known"
To any Merman TIMBS.

But Mermen didn't seem to care
Much time (as far as I'm aware)
With CLEGGS'S legs to spend;
Though Mermaids swam around all day
And gazed, exclaiming, "THAT'S the way
A gentleman should end!

"A pair of legs with well-cut knees,
And calves and ankles such as these
Which we in rapture hail,
Are far more eloquent, it's clear
(When clothed in silk and kerseymere),
Than any nasty tail."

And CLEGGS - a worthy kind old boy -
Rejoiced to add to others' joy,
And, when the day was dry,
Because it pleased the lookers-on,
He sat from morn till night - though con-
Stitutionally shy.

At first the Mermen laughed, "Pooh! pooh!"
But finally they jealous grew,
And sounded loud recalls;
But vainly. So these fishy males
Declared they too would clothe their tails
In silken hose and smalls.

They set to work, these water-men,
And made their nether robes - but when
They drew with dainty touch
The kerseymere upon their tails,
They found it scraped against their scales,
And hurt them very much.

The silk, besides, with which they chose
To deck their tails by way of hose
(They never thought of shoon),
For such a use was much too thin, -
It tore against the caudal fin,
And "went in ladders" soon.

So they designed another plan:
They sent their most seductive man
This note to him to show -
"Our Monarch sends to CAPTAIN CLEGGS
His humble compliments, and begs
He'll join him down below;

"We've pleasant homes below the sea -
Besides, if CAPTAIN CLEGGS should be
(As our advices say)
A judge of Mermaids, he will find
Our lady-fish of every kind
Inspection will repay."

Good CAPEL sent a kind reply,
For CAPEL thought he could descry
An admirable plan
To study all their ways and laws -
(But not their lady-fish, because
He was a married man).

The Merman sank - the Captain too
Jumped overboard, and dropped from view
Like stone from catapult;
And when he reached the Merman's lair,
He certainly was welcomed there,
But, ah! with what result?

They didn't let him learn their law,
Or make a note of what he saw,
Or interesting mem.:
The lady-fish he couldn't find,
But that, of course, he didn't mind -
He didn't come for them.

For though, when CAPTAIN CAPEL sank,
The Mermen drawn in double rank
Gave him a hearty hail,
Yet when secure of CAPTAIN CLEGGS,
They cut off both his lovely legs,
And gave him SUCH a tail!

When CAPTAIN CLEGGS returned aboard,
His blithesome crew convulsive roar'd,
To see him altered so.
The Admiralty did insist
That he upon the Half-pay List
Immediately should go.

In vain declared the poor old salt,
"It's my misfortune - not my fault,"
With tear and trembling lip -
In vain poor CAPEL begged and begged.
"A man must be completely legged
Who rules a British ship."

So spake the stern First Lord aloud -
He was a wag, though very proud,
And much rejoiced to say,
"You're only half a captain now -
And so, my worthy friend, I vow
You'll only get half-pay!"

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Ballad of the Clampherdown

It was our war-ship Clampherdown
Would sweep the Channel clean,
Wherefore she kept her hatches close
When the merry Channel chops arose,
To save the bleached marine.

She had one bow-gun of a hundred ton
And a great stern-gun beside.
They dipped their noses deep in the sea,
They racked their stays and stanchions free
In the wash of the wind-whipped tide.

It was our war-ship Clampherdown,
Fell in with a cruiser light
That carried the dainty Hotchkiss gun
And a pair of heels wherewith to run
From the grip of a close-fought fight.

She opened fire at seven miles --
As ye shoot at a bobbing cork --
And once she fired and twice she fired,
Till the bow-gun dropped like a lily tired
That lolls upon the stalk.

"Captain, the bow-gun melts apace,
The deck-beams break below,
'Twere well to rest for an hour or twain,
And botch the shattered plates again."
And he answered, "Make it so."

She opened fire within the mile --
As ye shoot at the flying duck --
And the great stern-gun shot fair and true,
With the heave of the ship, to the stainless blue,
And the great stern-turret stuck.

"Captain, the turret fills with steam,
The feed-pipes burst below --
You can hear the hiss of the helpless ram,
You can hear the twisted runners jam."
And he answered, "Turn and go!"

It was our war-ship Clampherdown,
And grimly did she roll;
Swung round to take the cruiser's fire
As the White Whale faces the Thresher's ire
When they war by the frozen Pole.

"Captain, the shells are falling fast,
And faster still fall we;
And it is not meet for English stock
To bide in the heart of an eight-day clock
The death they cannot see."

"Lie down, lie down, my bold A.B.,
We drift upon her beam;
We dare not ram, for she can run;
And dare ye fire another gun,
And die in the peeling steam?"

It was our war-ship Clampherdown
That carried an armour-belt;
But fifty feet at stern and bow
Lay bare as the paunch of the purser's sow,
To the hail of the Nordenfeldt.

"Captain, they hack us through and through;
The chilled steel bolts are swift!
We have emptied our bunkers in open sea,
Their shrapnel bursts where our coal should be."
And he answered, "Let her drift."

It was our war-ship Clampherdown,
Swung round upon the tide,
Her two dumb guns glared south and north,
And the blood and the bubbling steam ran forth,
And she ground the cruiser's side.

"Captain, they cry, the fight is done,
They bid you send your sword."
And he answered, "Grapple her stern and bow.
They have asked for the steel. They shall have it now;
Out cutlasses and board!"

It was our war-ship Clampherdown
Spewed up four hundred men;
And the scalded stokers yelped delight,
As they rolled in the waist and heard the fight,
Stamp o'er their steel-walled pen.

They cleared the cruiser end to end,
From conning-tower to hold.
They fought as they fought in Nelson's fleet;
They were stripped to the waist, they were bare to the feet,
As it was in the days of old.

It was the sinking Clampherdown
Heaved up her battered side --
And carried a million pounds in steel,
To the cod and the corpse-fed conger-eel,
And the scour of the Channel tide.

It was the crew of the Clampherdown
Stood out to sweep the sea,
On a cruiser won from an ancient foe,
As it was in the days of long ago,
And as it still shall be!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

O Captain! My Captain!

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

poem by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian