(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 dark Full to her lower hatches and risin' steady. Never seen death yet, Dickie? . . . Well, now is your time to learn! SESTINA OF THE TRAMP-ROYAL. SPEAKIN' in general, I 'ave tried 'em all, What do it matter where or 'ow we die, So long as we've our 'ealth to watch it all— In cash or credit-no, it ain't no good; But drew your tucker some'ow from the world, But, Gawd, what things are they I 'aven't done ? . I've turned my 'and to most, an' turned it good, For 'im that doth not work must surely die; Therfore, from job to job I've moved along. An' met my mate—the wind that tramps the world. It's like a book, I think, this bloomin' world, But what you're after is to turn 'em all. Gawd bless this world! Whatever she 'ath doneExcep' when awful long-I've found it good. So write, before I die, "'E liked it all!" When 'Omer smote 'is bloomin' lyre, He'd 'eard men sing by land an' sea; An' what he thought 'e might require, 'E went an' took-the same as me! The market-girls an' fishermen, The shepherds an' the sailors, too, They 'eard old songs turn up again, But kep' it quiet-same as you! They knew 'e stole; 'e knew they knowed. An' 'e winked back-the same as us! |