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John Masefield - One of the Bo`sun`s Yarns
Work rating: Low

Loafin` around in Sailor Town, a-bluin` o` my advance,
I met a derelict donkyman who led me a merry dance,
Till he landed me `n blanched me fair in the bar of a rum-saloon,
`N` there he spun me a juice of a yarn to this-yer brand of tune.

`It`s a solomn gospel, mate,` he says, `but a man as ships abroad
A steamer-tramp, he gets his whack of the wonders of the Lord --
Such as roaches crawlin` over his bunk, `n` snakes inside his bread,
And work by night and work by day enough to strike him dead.

`But that there`s by the way,` says he; `the yarn I`m goin` to spin
Is about myself `n` the life I led in the last ship I was in,
The "Esmeralda," casual tramp, from Hull towards the Hook,
Wi` one o` the brand o` Cain for mate `n` a human mistake for cook.

`We`d a week or so of dippin` around in a wind from outer hell,
With a fathom or more off broken sea at large in the forrard well,
Till our boats were bashed and bust and broke and gone to Davy Jones,
`N` then comes white Atlantic fog as chilled us to the bones.

`We slowed her down and started the horn and watch and watch about,
We froze the marrow in all our bones a-keepin` a good look-out,
`N` the ninth night out, in the middle watch, I woke from a pleasant dream,
Withthe smash of a steamer ramming our plates a point abaft the beam.

`Twas cold and dark when I fetched the deck, dirty `n` cold `n` thick,
`N` there was a feel in the way she rode as fairly turned me sick; --
She was settlin`, listin` quickly down, `n` I heard the mates a-cursin`,
`N` I heard the wash `n` the grumble-grunt of a steamer`s screws reversin`.

`She was leavin` us, mate, to sink or swim, `n` the words we took `n` said
They turned the port-light grassy-green `n` the starboard rosy-red;
We give her a hot perpetual taste of the singeing curse of Cain,
As we heard her back `n` clear the wreck `n` off to her course again.

`Then the mate came dancin` on to the scene, `n` he says, "Now quit yer chin,
Or I`ll smash yer skulls so help me James, `n` let some wisdom in.
Ye dodderin` scum o` the slums," he says, "are ye drunk or blazin` daft?
If ye wish to save yer sickly hides, ye`d best contrive a raft."

`So he spoke us fair and turned us to, `n` we wrought wi` tooth and nail
Wi` scantling, casks, `n` coops `n` ropes, `n` boiler-plates `n` sail,
`N` all the while it were dark `n` cold `n` dirty as it could be,
`N` she was soggy `n` settlin` down to a berth beneath the sea.

`Soggy she grew, `n` she didn`t lift, `n` she listed more `n` more,
Till her bell struck `n` her boiler-pipes began to wheeze `n` snore;
She settled, settled, listed, heeled, `n` then may I be cust,
If her sneezin`, wheezin` boiler-pipes did not begin to bust!

``N` then the stars began to shine, `n` the birds began to sing,
`N` the next I knowed I was bandaged up `n` my arm were in a sling,
`N` a swab in uniform were there, `n` "Well," says he, "`n` how
Are yer arms, `n` legs, `n` liver, `n` lungs, `n` bones a-feelin` now?"

"`Where am I?" says I, `n` he says, says he, a-cantin` to the roll,
"You`re aboard the R.M.S. `Marie` in the after Glory-Hole,
`N` you`ve had a shave, if you wish to know, from the port o` Kingdom Come.
Drink this," he says, `n` I takes `n` drinks, `n` s`elp me, it was rum!

`Seven survivors seen `n` saved of the "Esmeralda`s" crowd,
Taken aboard the sweet "Marie" `n` bunked `n` treated proud,
`N` D.B.S.`d to Mersey Docks (`n` a joyful trip we made),
`N` there the skipper were given a purse by a grateful Board of Trade

`That`s the end o` the yarn,` he says, `n` he takes `n` wipes his lips,
`Them`s the works o` the Lord you sees in steam `n` sailin` ships, --
Rocks `n` fogs `n` shatterin` seas `n` breakers right ahead,
`N` work o` nights `n` work o` days enough to strike you dead.`
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