Neil Purdon
4th September 2010, 15:18
My grandfather, the writer of the poem below served his time "before the mast" - first on the full-rigged ship CAMBRIAN HILLS and then on the four masted topsail schooner RIMAC. Some of you out there may enjoy reading it.
Neil
“When You-and I-Were Young”
AN OLD SHELLBACK HARKS BACK
by W. P. PURDON, D.S.C. (1873 – 1957)
D'ye mind o' the smell o' the pitch and the tar,
O' the rovings we used to tie ?
O' the figure-head beauties who led us along,
O' the pantiles, pea-soup and sea-pie?
O' the hashes concocted, the way they went down
When we'd spent the whole watch on a yard -
The bellying canvas nigh hurling us off -
With finger-tips bleeding and scarred;
With footropes a-swaying, the jackstays like ice;
With the martingale stabbing the foam;
With the lee scuppers under and decks all aslant,
As we threshed through the “Forties” for home ?
D'ye mind o' the “dead horse” to Davy Jones slung?
D'ye mind how we sang it to rest,
With the thought we should soon have some money in hand
For “baccy” and slops from the chest?
Let landlubbers crack up the pasties end pies
Which they to their “innards” consign;
If they'd been shanghaied on a hard-living ship
They'd have vowed, ere they got to the Line,
That “dandyfunk”, “dog's-body”, “strike-me-blind”, too,
Were as gifts of the gods to a man
When his belly was empty and letting him know
As only a starved belly can;
When a full watch below was a “something” forgot -
Small time e'en for “chewing the rag”;
When his dunnage was sodden, and never a change
Had he got in his old canvas bag!
D'ye mind o' the chanties we chorused a-main
As the last bag swung in o'er the side,
As the cable was hove short and gaskets unloosed
To sail at the turn o' the tide?
D'ye mind when the mainbrace was “spliced” on the Line -
How Neptune was there with his court?
D'ye mind o' the darned sudgee-mudgee and sand
As we brightened the “lady” for port ?
D'ye mind o' the stranger who stopped us for stores,
O' the news that was passed to and fro',
O' the songs and the yarns that the dog-watches knew,
O' the shipmates so long “gone below” ?
D'ye mind o' the islands - sea's jewels so rare -
How we climbed on the sheer-poles to view ?
How our thoughts all ran riot on treasure and such
As they faded once more in the blue ?
D'ye mind with the main lower-tops'l goose-winged
How she danced to a big Cape Stiff sea,
With the main hatch stove in and preventers taut rove,
And ice close aboard on the lee ?
D'ye mind o' the Doldrums, their flurries and calms -
Pullee-haulee with never a “let”,
And the big steamer passing, and how all hands vowed
“Ne'er again in a sailer” - and yet
Next voyage saw them taking the bait, the advance
For a voyage to the ends of the earth
Aboard of some “hunger-and-poverty” craft
Where misery mated with mirth ?
Aye, those were tough days, and the seamen tough dogs -
At a dog's wage, of bullies oft butts,
Still, as long as the bread-barge had something to give,
And the locker held rum in its guts,
They cared not a rap as she ran with the gale,
For the seas which tried hard to o'erwhelm,
For the storm-along Mate and the driving Old Man,
And the long, grinding tricks at the helm!
It's - O! for the smell o' Sargasso Sea weed,
For the sight of a clipper again -
With her tacks bowsed right down as she clung to the wind,
And her braces a-twang with the strain;
For the long watch on deck, and the short watch below;
For the “Heave her up, hearties!” - and, say,
I'd give quite a slice o' the present to have
One whiff o' the old times today:
The times when she ran from the “blue” to the “green”,
The times when the tow-rope was passed,
The times when the Mate's “That'll do you, my lads!”
Proclaimed the voyage over at last;
The times when all Sailortown for us turned out,
The times with a sweetheart or wife,
The times that we kissed with “Good-bye, fare-ye-well!”
Those old times we thought - and WERE life!
Neil
“When You-and I-Were Young”
AN OLD SHELLBACK HARKS BACK
by W. P. PURDON, D.S.C. (1873 – 1957)
D'ye mind o' the smell o' the pitch and the tar,
O' the rovings we used to tie ?
O' the figure-head beauties who led us along,
O' the pantiles, pea-soup and sea-pie?
O' the hashes concocted, the way they went down
When we'd spent the whole watch on a yard -
The bellying canvas nigh hurling us off -
With finger-tips bleeding and scarred;
With footropes a-swaying, the jackstays like ice;
With the martingale stabbing the foam;
With the lee scuppers under and decks all aslant,
As we threshed through the “Forties” for home ?
D'ye mind o' the “dead horse” to Davy Jones slung?
D'ye mind how we sang it to rest,
With the thought we should soon have some money in hand
For “baccy” and slops from the chest?
Let landlubbers crack up the pasties end pies
Which they to their “innards” consign;
If they'd been shanghaied on a hard-living ship
They'd have vowed, ere they got to the Line,
That “dandyfunk”, “dog's-body”, “strike-me-blind”, too,
Were as gifts of the gods to a man
When his belly was empty and letting him know
As only a starved belly can;
When a full watch below was a “something” forgot -
Small time e'en for “chewing the rag”;
When his dunnage was sodden, and never a change
Had he got in his old canvas bag!
D'ye mind o' the chanties we chorused a-main
As the last bag swung in o'er the side,
As the cable was hove short and gaskets unloosed
To sail at the turn o' the tide?
D'ye mind when the mainbrace was “spliced” on the Line -
How Neptune was there with his court?
D'ye mind o' the darned sudgee-mudgee and sand
As we brightened the “lady” for port ?
D'ye mind o' the stranger who stopped us for stores,
O' the news that was passed to and fro',
O' the songs and the yarns that the dog-watches knew,
O' the shipmates so long “gone below” ?
D'ye mind o' the islands - sea's jewels so rare -
How we climbed on the sheer-poles to view ?
How our thoughts all ran riot on treasure and such
As they faded once more in the blue ?
D'ye mind with the main lower-tops'l goose-winged
How she danced to a big Cape Stiff sea,
With the main hatch stove in and preventers taut rove,
And ice close aboard on the lee ?
D'ye mind o' the Doldrums, their flurries and calms -
Pullee-haulee with never a “let”,
And the big steamer passing, and how all hands vowed
“Ne'er again in a sailer” - and yet
Next voyage saw them taking the bait, the advance
For a voyage to the ends of the earth
Aboard of some “hunger-and-poverty” craft
Where misery mated with mirth ?
Aye, those were tough days, and the seamen tough dogs -
At a dog's wage, of bullies oft butts,
Still, as long as the bread-barge had something to give,
And the locker held rum in its guts,
They cared not a rap as she ran with the gale,
For the seas which tried hard to o'erwhelm,
For the storm-along Mate and the driving Old Man,
And the long, grinding tricks at the helm!
It's - O! for the smell o' Sargasso Sea weed,
For the sight of a clipper again -
With her tacks bowsed right down as she clung to the wind,
And her braces a-twang with the strain;
For the long watch on deck, and the short watch below;
For the “Heave her up, hearties!” - and, say,
I'd give quite a slice o' the present to have
One whiff o' the old times today:
The times when she ran from the “blue” to the “green”,
The times when the tow-rope was passed,
The times when the Mate's “That'll do you, my lads!”
Proclaimed the voyage over at last;
The times when all Sailortown for us turned out,
The times with a sweetheart or wife,
The times that we kissed with “Good-bye, fare-ye-well!”
Those old times we thought - and WERE life!