My own story of the Unknown Sailor who set out on the Portsmouth Road

The sailor's leave was over
So from his home he strode
Back to his ship he made his trip
Upon the Portsmouth Road        

At the village inn in Thursley
He stopped to buy a round
And there three men he did befriend
They too were Portsmouth bound

On the lonely climb up Hind Head
Those men made their attack
There with a knife they took his life
And ran off with his pack

A stone stands at the roadside
To mark where he was killed
As travellers know no grass will grow
Where that red blood was spilled

Those cut-throats hang in irons
On the top of Gibbet Hill
To tell us all what fate befalls
Men who treat others ill

At peace in Thursley churchyard
That unknown sailor sleeps        
His kin still yearn for his return
From sailing on the deep

As you venture on life's journey
You'll meet your fellow man
But take great care for while you share
Others take what they can