UP the well-remembered fairway, past the buoys and forts we drifted—

Saw the houses, roads, and churches as they were a year ago.

Far astern were wars and battles, all the dreary clouds were lifted,

As we turned the Elbow Ledges—felt the engines ease to "Slow."

Rusty side and dingy paintwork, stripped for war and cleared for battle—

Saw the harbour-tugs around us—smelt the English fields again,—

English fields and English hedges—sheep and horses, English cattle,

Like a screen unrolled before us, through the mist of English rain.

Slowly through the basin entrance—twenty thousand tons a-crawling

With a thousand men aboard her, all a-weary of the War—

Warped her round and laid alongside with the cobble-stones a-calling—

"There's a special train awaiting, just for you to come ashore."

Out again as fell the evening, down the harbour in the gloaming

With the sailors on the fo'c'sle looking wistfully a-lee—

Just another year of waiting—just another year of roaming

For the Majesty of England—for the Freedom of the Sea.