  Spunyarn, spunyarn, with one to turn the crank, And one to slather the spunyarn, and one to knot the hank; It’s an easy job for a summer watch, and a pleasant job enough, To twist the tarry lengths of yarn to shapely sailor stuff. Life is nothing but spunyarn on a winch in need of oil, Little enough is twined and spun but fever-fret and moil. I have travelled on land and sea, and all that I have found Are these poor songs to brace the arms that help the winches round. |
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