There was another thread revived recently that discussed the nautical character Mother Carey, and there were several poems mentioned that describe her in vivid detail, some of which have been put to music. The John Masefield poem runs as follows:

From Salt-Water Poems and Ballads, by John Masefield,
The MacMillan Company, Publishers, New York, 1913, pp. 46-47

MOTHER CAREY
(As told me by the bo'sun)


Mother Carey? She's the mother o' the witches
'N' all them sort o' rips;
She's a fine gell to look at, but the hitch is,
She's a sight too fond of ships;
She lives upon an iceberg to the norred,
'N' her man he's Davy Jones,
'N' she combs the weeds upon her forred
With pore drowned sailors' bones.

She's the mother o' the wrecks, 'n' the mother
Of all big winds as blows;
She's up to some deviltry or other
When it storms, or sleets, or snows;
The noise of the wind's her screamin',
'I'm arter a plump, young, fine,
Brass-buttoned, beefy-ribbed young seam'n
So as me 'n' my mate kin dine.'

She's a hungry old rip 'n' a cruel
For sailor-men like we,
She's give a many mariners the gruel
'N' a long sleep under sea;
She's the blood o' many a crew upon her
'N' the bones of many a wreck,
'N' she's barnacles a-growin' on her
'N' shark's teeth round her neck.

I ain't never had no schoolin'
Nor read no books like you,
But I knows 't ain't healthy to be foolin'
With that there gristly two;
You're young, you thinks, 'n' you're lairy,
But if you're to make old bones,
Steer clear, I says, o' Mother Carey,
'N' that there Davy Jones.

Here's what I've done to adapt the poem for singing, using the fine dance tune "Cherochee Shuffle" and adding a refrain line(copy and paste into WORD/TIMES/12 to line up chords):


MOTHER CAREY-2

(From Salt-Water Poems and Ballads, by John Masefield,
The MacMillan Company, Publishers, New York, 1913, pp. 46-47
Adapted and set to music by Charles Ipcar 2004
Tune: After "Cherochee Shuffle")


C---------------------G----------C-------Am
Now Mother Carey, she's the mother o' witch-es
---C---------------Am
'N' all them sort o' rips;
--------F---------------------C
She's a fine gal to look at, but the hitch is,
------G-C------------------Am
She's a sight too fond of ships;
---------C--------G-------C
She's a sight too fond of ships;
-----F---------------------C
She lives on an iceberg to the nor-red,
--------F-----------------C
'N' her man he's Davy Jones,
--------F-----------------------C
'N' she combs the weeds up-on her for-red
---------------------------------Am
With pore drowned sail-ors' bones;
------C---------------G--------C
With pore drowned sailors' bones.

She's the mother o' the wrecks, 'n' the mother
Of all big winds as blows;
She's up to some deviltry or other
When it storms, or sleets, or snows…
In the big winds you can hear her screamin',
'I'm after a plump, young, fine,
Brass-buttoned, beefy-ribbed young seam'n
So me 'n' my mate kin dine…'

She's a hungry old rip 'n' she's cruel
To sailor-men like we,
She's made many mariners her gruel
Down beneath the sea…
She's got the blood o' them she's lured
'N' the bones of many a wreck,
'N' she's got barnacles a-growin' on her
'N' shark's teeth round her neck…

Now I ain't never had no schoolin'
Nor read no books like you,
But I knows 't ain't healthy to be foolin'
With that there gristly two…
You're young, you thinks, 'n' you're wary,
But if you're to make old bones,
Steer clear, I says, o' Mother Carey,
'N' that there Davy Jones…

Cheerily,
Charley Noble