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But he couldn't lie if you paid him, and he'd starve

before he stole. He'll take the Mary in ballast-you'll find her a

lively ship; And you'll take Sir Anthony Gloster, that goes on

his wedding-trip, Lashed in our old deck-cabin with all three port

holes wide, The kick o' the screw beneath him and the round

blue seas outside! Sir Anthony Gloster's carriage-our 'ouse-flag fly

in' freeTen thousand men on the pay-roll and forty

freighters at sea! He made himself and a million, but this world is

a fleetin' show, And he'll go to the wife of 'is bosom the same as

he ought to go. By the heel of the Paternosters—there isn't a chance

to mistakeAnd Mac'll pay you the money as soon as the bub

bles break! Five thousand for six weeks' cruising, the stanch

est freighter afloat, And Mac he'll give you your bonus the minute I'm

out o' the boat!

He'll take you round to Macassar, and you'll come

back alone; He knows what I want o' the Mary. ... I'll do

what I please with my own. Your mother 'ud call it wasteful, but I've seven

and-thirty more; I'll come in my private carriage and bid it wait at

the door. ... For my son 'e was never a credit: 'e muddled

with books and art, And 'e lived on Sir Anthony's money and 'e broke

Sir Anthony's heart. There isn't even a grandchild, and the Gloster

family's doneThe only one you left me, O mother, the only

one! Harrer an' Trinity College! Me slavin' early an'

late, An' he thinks I'm dyin' crazy, and you're in Ma

cassar Strait! Flesh o' my flesh, my dearie, for ever an' ever

amen, That first stroke come for a warning; I ought to

ha' gone to you then, But-cheap repairs for a cheap 'un—the doctors

said I'd do:

Mary, why didn't you warn me? I've allus heeded

to you, Excep'-I know-about women; but you are a

spirit now; An', wife, they was only women, and I was a man.

That's how. An' a man 'e must go with a woman, as you could

not understand; But I never talked 'em secrets. I paid 'em out o'

hand. Thank Gawd, I can pay for my fancies! Now

what's five thousand to me, For a berth off the Paternosters in the haven where

I would be ? I believe in the Resurrection, if I read my Bible

plain, But I wouldn't trust 'em at Wokin'; we're safer at

sea again. For the heart it shall go with the treasure-go

down to the sea in ships. I'm sick of the hired women—I'll kiss my girl on

her lips! I'll be content with my fountain, I'll drink from my

own well, And the wife of my youth shall charm me-an’ the

rest can go to Hell!

(Dickie, he will, that's certain.) I'll lie in our

standin’-bed, An' Mac'll take her in ballast—and she trims best

by the head. ... Down by the head an' sinkin'. Her fires are drawn

and cold, And the water's splashin' hollow on the skin of

the empty hold Churning an' choking and chuckling, quiet and

scummy and darkFull to her lower hatches and risin' steady.

Hark! . That was the after-bulkhead. . . . she's flooded

from stem to stern. ... Never seen death yet, Dickie? ... Well, now is

your time to learn!


SPEAKIN' in general, l 'ave tried 'em all,
The 'appy roads that take you o'er the world.
Speakin' in general, l'ave found them good
For such as cannot use one bed too long,
But must get 'ence, the same as I'ave done,
An' go observin' matters till they die.

What do it matter where or 'ow we die,
So long as we've our 'ealth to watch it all-
The different ways that different things are done,
An' men an’ women lovin' in this world-
Takin' our chances as they come along,
An' when they ain't, pretendin' they are good ?

In cash or credit--no, it ain't no good;
You ’ave to ’ave the 'abit or you'd die,
Unless you lived your life but one day long,
Nor didn't prophesy nor fret at all,
But drew your tucker some'ow from the world,
An' never bothered what you might ha' done.

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