Here's another one from Burt Franklin Jenness to warm the heart of the old navy veteran:

Poem by Burt Franklin Jenness
From OCEAN HAUNTS, edited by Burt Franklin Jenness,
Empire Publishing Co., New York, US, © 1934, p. 77.

Bright-Work

If ever I quit this goin' t' sea,
An' cease th' world t' roam,
An' old dame fortune smiles on me;
I'll build myself a home.

Th' decks'll all be made o' glass,
A guy can't holystone,
An' there won't be an inch o' brass
In this 'ere home I'll own;
For I decided long ago
My eyes won't stand th' glare,
An' in my craft – one thing I know –
There'll be no bright-work there.

Th' galley'll be a fathom wide;
Th' cook'll work all night,
An' keep hot coffee by my side,
An' pipes all primed t' light;
Th' mess boards I'll have made o' steel,
For I'll be through with rubbin';
An' paper dishes ev'ry meal,
For they don't need no scrubbin'
An' that's th' one sea job I hate,
So when I've time t' spare
T' build my house, I'll tell ye mate:
There'll be no bright-work there!

Cheerily,
Charley Noble