---

John Masefield - Loch-Achray
Work rating: Low

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 &mdash
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 the 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" &mdash
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,
	An old yarn learned at sea.

She couldn`t lay-to nor yet pay-off,
And she got swept clean in the bloody trough;
Her masts were gone, and afore you knowed
She filled by the head and down she goed.
Her crew made seven-and-twenty dishes
For the big jack-sharks and the little fishes,
And over their bones the water swishes.
	Hear the yarn of a sailor,
	An old yarn learned at sea.

The wives and girls they watch in the rain
For a ship as won`t come home again.
"I reckon it`s them head-winds," they say,
"She`ll be home to-morrow, if not to-day.
I`ll just nip home `n` I`ll air the sheets
`N` buy the fixins `n` cook the meats
As my man likes `n` my man eats."

So home they goes by the windy streets,
Thinking their men are homeward bound
With anchors hungry for English ground,
And the bloody fun of it is, they`re drowned!
	Hear the yarn of a sailor,
	An old yarn learned at sea.
Source
The script ran 0.002 seconds.