Salt-Water Ballads. John 1878-1967 Masefield

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       ‘ALL YE THAT PASS BY’

       IN MEMORY OF A. P. R.

       TO-MORROW

       CAVALIER

       A SONG AT PARTING

       GLOSSARY

A CONSECRATION

       Table of Contents

      NOT of the princes and prelates with periwigged charioteers Riding triumphantly laurelled to lap the fat of the years— Rather the scorned—the rejected—the men hemmed in with the spears;

      The men of the tattered battalion which fights till it dies, Dazed with the dust of the battle, the din and the cries, The men with the broken heads and the blood running into their eyes.

      Not the be-medalled Commander, beloved of the throne, Riding cock-horse to parade when the bugles are blown, But the lads who carried the koppie and cannot be known.

      Not the ruler for me, but the ranker, the tramp of the road, The slave with the sack on his shoulders pricked on with the goad, The man with too weighty a burden, too weary a load.

      The sailor, the stoker of steamers, the man with the clout, The chantyman bent at the halliards putting a tune to the shout, The drowsy man at the wheel and the tired look-out.

      Others may sing of the wine and the wealth and the mirth, The portly presence of potentates goodly in girth;— Mine be the dirt and the dross, the dust and scum of the earth!

      Theirs be the music, the colour, the glory, the gold; Mine be a handful of ashes, a mouthful of mould. Of the maimed, of the halt and the blind in the rain and the cold—

       Of these shall my songs be fashioned, my tales be told.

      Amen.

THE YARN OF THE ‘LOCH ACHRAY’

       Table of Contents

      The ‘Loch Achray’ was a clipper tall

       With seven-and-twenty hands in all.

       Twenty to hand and reef and haul,

       A skipper to sail and mates to bawl

       ‘Tally on to the tackle-fall,

       Heave now ’n’ start her, heave ’n’ pawl!’

       Hear the yarn of a sailor,

       An old yarn learned at sea.

      Her crew were shipped and they said ‘Farewell,

       So-long, my Tottie, my lovely gell;

       We sail to-day if we fetch to hell,

       It’s time we tackled the wheel a spell.’

       Hear the yarn of a sailor,

       An old yarn learned at sea.

      The dockside loafers talked on the quay

       The day that she towed down to sea:

       ‘Lord, what a handsome ship she be!

       Cheer her, sonny boys, three times three!’

       And the dockside loafers gave her a shout

       As the red-funnelled tug-boat towed her out;

       They gave her a cheer as the custom is,

       And the crew yelled ‘Take our loves to Liz—

       Three cheers, bullies, for old Pier Head

       ’N’ the bloody stay-at-homes!’ they said.

       Hear the yarn of a sailor

       An old yarn learned at sea.

      In the grey of the coming on of night

       She dropped the tug at the Tuskar Light,

       ’N’ the topsails went to the topmast head

       To a chorus that fairly awoke the dead.

       She trimmed her yards and slanted South

       With her royals set and a bone in her mouth.

       Hear the yarn of a sailor,

       An old yarn learned at sea.

      She crossed the Line and all went well,

       They ate, they slept, and they struck the bell

       And I give you a gospel truth when I state

       The crowd didn’t find any fault with the Mate,

       But one night off the River Plate.

       Hear the yarn of a sailor,

       An old yarn learned at sea.

      It freshened up till it blew like thunder

       And burrowed her deep, lee-scuppers under.

       The old man said, ‘I mean to hang on

       Till her canvas busts or her sticks are gone’—

       Which the blushing looney did, till at last

       Overboard went her mizzen-mast.

       Hear the yarn of a sailor,

       An old yarn learned at sea.

      Then a fierce squall struck the ‘Loch Achray’

       And bowed her down to her water-way;

       Her main-shrouds gave and her forestay,

       And a green sea carried her wheel away;

       Ere the watch below had time to dress

       She was cluttered up in a blushing mess.

       Hear the yarn of a sailor,

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