He'll take the Mary in ballast-you'll find her a lively ship;

And you'll take Sir Anthony Gloster, that goes on 'is 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 flyin' free

Ten 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 mistake

And Mac'll pay you the money as soon as the bubbles break!

Five thousand for six weeks' cruising, the staunchest 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.

what I please with my own.

I'll do

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

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 done

The only one you left me, O mother, the only one! Harrer and Trinity College-me slavin' early an'

late

An' he thinks I'm dying crazy, and you're in Macassar 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.

Now what's

Thank Gawd, I can pay for my fancies!

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-an' 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 dark—

Full to her lower hatches and risin' steady. Hark!

That was the after-bulkhead.

from stem to stern. .

Never seen death yet, Dickie? . your time to learn!

She's flooded

Well, now is

SESTINA OF THE TRAMP-ROYAL

SPEAKIN' in general, I 'ave tried 'em all,
The 'appy roads that take you o'er the world.
Speakin' in general, I '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 aren'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.

But, Gawd, what things are they I 'aven't done?
I've turned my 'and to most, an' turned it good,
In various situations round the world-

For 'im that doth not work must surely die;
But that's no reason man should labour all
'Is life on one same shift; life's none so long.

Therefore, from job to job I've moved along.
Pay couldn't 'old me when my time was done,
For something in my 'ead upset me all,
Till I 'ad dropped whatever 'twas for good,
An', out at sea, be'eld the dock-lights die,
An' met my mate-the wind that tramps the world!

It's like a book, I think, this bloomin' world,
Which you can read and care for just so long,
But presently you feel that you will die
Unless you get the page you're readin' done,
An' turn another-likely not so good;

But what you're after is to turn 'em all.

Gawd bless this world! Whatever she 'ath done-
Excep' when awful long-I've found it good.
So write, before I die, "'E liked it all!"