Part 15 (1/2)

CARGOES

Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir, Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine, With a cargo of ivory, And apes and peac.o.c.ks, Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.

Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus, Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green sh.o.r.es, With a cargo of diamonds, Emeralds, amethysts, Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.

Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack, b.u.t.ting through the Channel in the mad March days, With a cargo of Tyne coal, Road-rails, pig-lead, Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.

CAPTAIN STRATTON'S FANCY

Oh some are fond of red wine, and some are fond of white, And some are all for dancing by the pale moonlight; But rum alone's the tipple, and the heart's delight Of the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French, And some'll swallow tay and stuff fit only for a wench; But I'm for right Jamaica till I roll beneath the bench, Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

Oh some are for the lily, and some are for the rose, But I am for the sugar-cane that in Jamaica grows; For it's that that makes the bonny drink to warm my copper nose, Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

Oh some are fond of fiddles, and a song well sung, And some are all for music for to lilt upon the tongue; But mouths were made for tankards, and for sucking at the bung, Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

Oh some are fond of dancing, and some are fond of dice, And some are all for red lips, and pretty la.s.ses' eyes; But a right Jamaica puncheon is a finer prize To the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

Oh some that's good and G.o.dly ones they hold that it's a sin To troll the jolly bowl around, and let the dollars spin; But I'm for toleration and for drinking at an inn, Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

Oh some are sad and wretched folk that go in silken suits, And there's a mort of wicked rogues that live in good reputes; So I'm for drinking honestly, and dying in my boots, Like an old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

AN OLD SONG RE-SUNG

I saw a s.h.i.+p a-sailing, a-sailing, a-sailing, With emeralds and rubies and sapphires in her hold; And a bosun in a blue coat bawling at the railing, Piping through a silver call that had a chain of gold; The summer wind was failing and the tall s.h.i.+p rolled.

I saw a s.h.i.+p a-steering, a-steering, a-steering, With roses in red thread worked upon her sails; With sacks of purple amethysts, the spoils of buccaneering, Skins of musky yellow wine, and silks in bales, Her merry men were cheering, hauling on the brails.

I saw a s.h.i.+p a-sinking, a-sinking, a-sinking, With glittering sea-water splas.h.i.+ng on her decks, With seamen in her spirit-room singing songs and drinking, Pulling claret bottles down, and knocking off the necks, The broken gla.s.s was c.h.i.n.king as she sank among the wrecks.

ST. MARY'S BELLS

It's pleasant in Holy Mary By San Marie lagoon, The bells they chime and jingle From dawn to afternoon.

They rhyme and chime and mingle, They pulse and boom and beat, And the laughing bells are gentle And the mournful bells are sweet.

Oh, who are the men that ring them, The bells of San Marie, Oh, who but sonsie seamen Come in from over sea, And merrily in the belfries They rock and sway and hale, And send the bells a-jangle, And down the l.u.s.ty ale.

It's pleasant in Holy Mary To hear the beaten bells Come booming into music, Which throbs, and clangs, and swells, From sunset till the daybreak, From dawn to afternoon.