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Henry Lawson - For`ard
Work rating: Low

It is stuffy in the steerage where the second-classers sleep, 
For there`s near a hundred for`ard, and they`re stowed away like sheep, — 
They are trav`lers for the most part in a straight `n` honest path; 
But their linen`s rather scanty, an` there isn`t any bath — 
Stowed away like ewes and wethers that is shore `n` marked `n` draft. 
But the shearers of the shearers always seem to travel aft; 
    In the cushioned cabins, aft, 
    With saloons `n` smoke-rooms, aft — 
There is sheets `n` best of tucker for the first-salooners, aft. 
 
Our beef is just like scrapin`s from the inside of a hide, 
And the spuds were pulled too early, for they`re mostly green inside; 
But from somewhere back amidships there`s a smell o` cookin` waft, 
An` I`d give my earthly prospects for a real good tuck-out aft — 
    Ham an` eggs `n` coffee, aft, 
    Say, cold fowl for luncheon, aft, 
Juicy grills an` toast `n` cutlets — tucker a-lor-frongsy, aft. 
 
They feed our women sep`rate, an` they make a blessed fuss, 
Just as if they couldn`t trust `em for to eat along with us! 
Just because our hands are horny an` our hearts are rough with graft — 
But the gentlemen and ladies always DINE together, aft — 
    With their ferns an` mirrors, aft, 
    With their flow`rs an` napkins, aft — 
`I`ll assist you to an orange` — `Kindly pass the sugar`, aft. 
 
We are shabby, rough, `n` dirty, an` our feelin`s out of tune, 
An` it`s hard on fellers for`ard that was used to go saloon; 
There`s a broken swell among us — he is barracked, he is chaffed, 
An` I wish at times, poor devil, for his own sake he was aft; 
    For they`d understand him, aft, 
    (He will miss the bath-rooms aft), 
Spite of all there`s no denyin` that there`s finer feelin`s aft. 
 
Last night we watched the moonlight as it spread across the sea — 
`It is hard to make a livin`,` said the broken swell to me. 
`There is ups an` downs,` I answered, an` a bitter laugh he laughed — 
There were brighter days an` better when he always travelled aft — 
    With his rug an` gladstone, aft, 
    With his cap an` spyglass, aft — 
A careless, rovin`, gay young spark as always travelled aft. 
 
There`s a notice by the gangway, an` it seems to come amiss, 
For it says that second-classers `ain`t allowed abaft o` this`; 
An` there ought to be a notice for the fellows from abaft — 
But the smell an` dirt`s a warnin` to the first-salooners, aft; 
    With their tooth and nail-brush, aft, 
    With their cuffs `n` collars, aft — 
Their cigars an` books an` papers, an` their cap-peaks fore-`n`-aft. 
 
I want to breathe the mornin` breeze that blows against the boat, 
For there`s a swellin` in my heart — a tightness in my throat — 
We are for`ard when there`s trouble!  We are for`ard when there`s graft! 
But the men who never battle always seem to travel aft; 
    With their dressin`-cases, aft, 
    With their swell pyjamas, aft — 
Yes! the idle and the careless, they have ease an` comfort, aft. 
 
I feel so low an` wretched, as I mooch about the deck, 
That I`m ripe for jumpin` over — an` I wish there was a wreck! 
We are driven to New Zealand to be shot out over there — 
Scarce a shillin` in our pockets, nor a decent rag to wear, 
With the everlastin` worry lest we don`t get into graft — 
There is little left to land for if you cannot travel aft; 
    No anxiety abaft, 
    They have stuff to land with, aft — 
Oh, there`s little left to land for if you cannot travel aft; 
 
But it`s grand at sea this mornin`, an` Creation almost speaks, 
Sailin` past the Bay of Islands with its pinnacles an` peaks, 
With the sunny haze all round us an` the white-caps on the blue, 
An` the orphan rocks an` breakers — Oh, it`s glorious sailin` through! 
To the south a distant steamer, to the west a coastin` craft, 
An` we see the beauty for`ard, better than if we were aft; 
    Spite of op`ra-glasses, aft; 
    But, ah well, they`re brothers aft — 
Nature seems to draw us closer — bring us nearer fore-`n`-aft. 
 
What`s the use of bein` bitter?  What`s the use of gettin` mad? 
What`s the use of bein` narrer just because yer luck is bad? 
What`s the blessed use of frettin` like a child that wants the moon? 
There is broken hearts an` trouble in the gilded first saloon! 
We are used to bein` shabby — we have got no overdraft — 
We can laugh at troubles for`ard that they couldn`t laugh at aft; 
    Spite o` pride an` tone abaft 
    (Keepin` up appearance, aft) 
There`s anxiety an` worry in the breezy cabins aft. 
 
But the curse o` class distinctions from our shoulders shall be hurled, 
An` the influence of woman revolutionize the world; 
There`ll be higher education for the toilin` starvin` clown, 
An` the rich an` educated shall be educated down; 
An` we all will meet amidships on this stout old earthly craft, 
An` there won`t be any friction `twixt the classes fore-`n`-aft. 
    We`ll be brothers, fore-`n`-aft! 
    Yes, an` sisters, fore-`n`-aft! 
When the people work together, and there ain`t no fore-`n`-aft.
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