The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #99569 Message #1986750
Posted By: Charley Noble
05-Mar-07 - 08:00 AM
Thread Name: Lyr Add: The Troubadour (Jim Brannigan)
Subject: Lyr Add: THE TRAVELLER (C. Fox Smith)
Jim-
As a "troubadour" you might enjoy this poem by C. Fox Smith, an English woman who resided 9 years in Victoria in the early 1900's:
The Traveller
I've loops o' string in the place o' buttons, I've mostly holes for a shirt;
My boots are bust and my hat's a goner, I'm gritty with dust an' dirt;
An' I'm sitting here on a bollard watching the China ships go forth,
Seeing the black little tugs come sliding with timber booms from the North.
Sitting and seeing the broad Pacific break at my feet in foam.
Me that was born with a taste for travel in a back alley at home.
They put me to school when I was a nipper at the Board School down in the slums,
And some of the kids was good at spelling and some at figures and sums;
And whether I went or whether I didn't they learned me nothing at all,
Only I'd watch the flies go walking over the maps on the wall,
Strolling over the lakes an' mountains, over the plains an' sea, —
As if they was born with a taste for travel something the same as me!
If I'd been born a rich man's youngster with lots o' money to burn,
It wouldn't ha' gone in marble mansions and statues at every turn,
It wouldn't ha' gone in wine and women, or dogs an' horses an' play,
Nor yet in collecting bricks and bracks in a harmless kind of a way;
I'd ha' paid my fare where I've beat my way (but I couldn't ha' liked it more!),
Me that was born with a taste for travel — the same if you're rich or poor.
I'd ha' gone bowling in yachts and rolling in plush padded Pullman cars, —
The same as I've seen 'em when I lay resting at night-time under the stars,
Me that have beat the ties and rode the bumpers from sea to sea,
Me that have sweated in stokeholds and dined off mouldy salt-horse and tea;
Me that have melted like grease at Perim and froze like boards off the Horn,
All along of a taste for travel that was in me when I was born.
I ain't got folks and I ain't got money, I ain't got nothing at all,
But a sort of a queer old thirst that keeps me moving on till I fall,
And many a time I've been short o' shelter and many a time o' grub,
But I've got away from the rows o' houses, the streets, an' the corner pub —
And here by the side of a sea that's shining under a sky like flame,
Me that was born with a taste for travel, give thanks because o' the same.
Notes:
A note in THE BRITISH COLONIALIST, a newspaper in Victoria, Vancouver Island, for May 11 1913 lists this poem as having been entered by CFS in their poetry competition. The result is not reported.
This version is taken from SAILOR TOWN: Sea Songs and Ballads, edited by Cicely Fox Smith, published by George H. Doran Co., New York, US, © 1919, pp. 120-122. First appearing in SONGS IN SAIL published by Elkin Mathews, © 1914.
This poet was an expert at writing soliloqies from the viewpoint of a true sailor of the late 19th and early 20th century, the end of the age of sail and the start of the age of steam. This is one of her finest examples showing why a sailor would put up with the hardships of a life at sea and sign on over and over again.
The poet describes this "traveller" in detail in her book SAILOR-TOWN DAYS, © 1923, p. 170:
"The Pacific coast is a great place for rolling stones of every sort and description. I remember meeting what I should say was the very perfection of the type. He was sitting on the edge of the Outer Wharf — it was in Victoria — on a sort of coaming that runs along the edge, very comfortable to sit on, though given to exuding tar in very hot weather. His coat — I don't think there was a shirt underneath — was fastened together with string, being innocent of buttons. His knee showed through his trousers. His boots were ruins. But he spoke with the unmistakable accents of cultivation."
"Bollard" is a large post, wood or iron, on the dock to which a ship would be moored while in port.
"Board School" is an early British school run by a Board of Education.
"Pullman Cars" are luxurious railway carriages.
"Beat the ties" means hoboing or making one's way along the rail line.
"Rode the Bumpers" is another way of hitching unofficial lifts on early railways.
"Salt Horse" is sailor slang for meat soaked in brine to preserve it on long sea voyages.
"Perim" is a British island in the Strait of Bab-el-Mandeb, at the entrance to the Red Sea.
Jim Saville and Charley Noble