  LOOKING AFT.I'M the donkey-man of a dingy tramp They launched in 'Eighty-one, Rickety, old, and leaky too—but some o' the rivets are shining new Beneath our after-gun. An' she an' meself are off to sea From out o' the breaker's hands, An' we laugh to find such an altered game, for devil a thing we found the same When we came off the land. We used to carry a freight of trash That younger ships would scorn, But now we're running a decent trade—howitzer-shell and hand-grenade, Or best Alberta corn. We used to sneak an' smouch along Wi' rusty side an' rails, Hoot an' bellow of liners proud—"Give us the room that we're allowed; Get out o' the track—the Mails!" We sometimes met—an' took their wash— The 'aughty ships o' war, An' we dips to them—an' they to us—an' on they went in a tearin' fuss, But now they count us more. For now we're "England's Hope and Pride"— The Mercantile Marine,— "Bring us the goods and food we lack, because we're hungry, Merchant Jack" (As often I have been). "You're the man to save us now, We look to you to win; Wot'd yer like? A rise o' pay? We'll give whatever you like to say, But bring the cargoes in." An' here we are in the danger zone, Wi' escorts all around, Destroyers a-racing to and fro—"We will show you the way to go, An' guide you safe an' sound." "An' did you cross in a comfy way, Or did you have to run? An' is the patch on your hull we see the mark of a bump in 'Ninety-three, Or the work of a German gun?" "We'll lead you now, and keep beside, An' call to all the Fleet, Clear the road and sweep us in—he carries a freight we need to win, A golden load of wheat." Yes, we're the hope of England now, And rank wi' the Navy too; An' all the papers speak us fair—"Nothing he will not lightly dare, Nothing he fears to do." "Be polite to Merchant Jack, Who brings you in the meat, For if he went on a striking lay, you'd have to go on your knees and pray, With never a bone to eat." But you can lay your papers down An' set your fears aside, For we will keep the ocean free—we o' the clean an' open sea— To break the German pride. We won't go canny or strike for pay, Or say we need a rest; But you get on wi' the blinkin' War—an' not so much o' your strikes ashore, Or givin' the German best. |
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