Bill Adams does his usual good work with this ode to limejuice:

By Bill Adams
From WIND IN THE TOPSAILS, edited by Bill Adams, published by George G. Harrap & Co., London, UK, © 1931, pp. 81-82.

LIMEY

She's a Liverpool ship, an' becalmed on the Line;
Ain't it hell when a Liverpool sailor must dine?
Salt pork an' pea soup (an' the sun's overhead),
An' the fat weevils crawlin' in mouldy hard bread;
But the cook's at his door wi' a tin pannikin,
A Liverpool Irishman, scrany an' thin;
A half-gill o' limejuice to each man he serves,
To ward off the scurvy an' heave tight the nerves.

She's a Liverpool ship wi' the ice on her shrouds,
An' the snowflakes down droppin' from lead-coloured clouds;
They're hungry an' weary, half frozen, half dead,
An' for dinner there's weevils in mouldy hard bread,
A bit o' salt pork, o' pea soup just a lick –
But the cook's at his door, an' he's turning the trick!
A half-gill o' limejuice to each man he serves,
To ward off the scurvy an' heave tight the nerves.

It ain't Bass's ale, an' it ain't Burton stout,
Nor fine Irish whisky puts clippers about
An' heads 'em away when the breeze comes along
Wi' a rattle o' sheaves to the chanteyman's song;
It ain't fine Madeira nor sweet Muscatel
Keeps Liverpool clippers a-riddin' the swell;
Nor it ain't brown Jamaica nor bubblin' champagne
Keeps the Limeys a-singin' in wind an' in rain;
It's the thin bitter liquid as puckers the lips
Brings fame for smart sailin' to Liverpool ships.

Then here's to them Limeys, "Lor' love 'em!" says I,
Who swigs down their limejuice blow low or blow high;
An' I wish I was back in them Liverpool ships,
Wi' a rusty tin pannikin held to me lips!

Cheerily,
Charley Noble