The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #125267 Message #2773094
Posted By: Rowan
24-Nov-09 - 10:26 PM
Thread Name: Edwin J. Brady (old sailor-poet from OZ)
Subject: RE: Edwin J. Brady (old sailor-poet from OZ)
And there's also (which I have understood to be a recitation)
The Blazing Star
E J Brady
Blazin' Star, from Boston City – Yankee goods and kerosene;
Foreign crew and cook and master; stout, old-fashioned brigantine.
Hamburg-built and rigged and coppered before the flying days of steam;
Square in bows and stern, and steady; well-set spars and broad o' beam.
Rolled across the rough Atlantic, round the Cape and round the Horn,
Been a famous ocean trader before the younger age was born.
Carried corn and carried sugar, carried cotton, carried tea;
Sailed in every kind of water, weathered storm and wind and sea.
Been to Behring Straits a-whaling, been for rice to Singapore.
Been to north and south, and round it, but she's never been ashore.
See 'er manifest, m' hearties, piles and piles o' hardware stock,
Case and crate and box and package – ram her, jam her chock-a-block.
So you'll get them shore-lines ready, now they've run 'er numbers out,
And the man who isn't willing, he can face to right-about.
For the agent's got to send 'er down to Callao with shale,
And we'll empty and we'll fill 'er in a fortnight – and she'll sail.
Heave away, you damn Dutch devils! And we'll heave away ashore.
She 'as lost a bit of canvas and 'er planks is weather-wore.
Ease 'er 'ed and round 'er gently! Put the fenders out, I say!
Pass that line a trifle for'ard; let 'er 'ave a bit o' way!
By the livin' ghost, M'Ginnis, if I 'ave to talk to you! …
Steady, steady! All together! 'Nother turn – there, that'll do!
Round the Horn and none the worse, sir; crew and captain safe and sound,
Bar a Swede – there's plenty of 'em – he went overboard and drowned.
Bless my soul! There ain't a vessel hardly ever comes to port,
Be the passage what it may be, but the list is someone short.
Someone slips from shrouds or mainyard; block 'its someone on the 'ed –
What the devil does it matter, 'long as someone's safely dead?
Got yer tackle right and ready! Strip ye lazy sinners, strip!
Blazin' Star's my boat I reckon. I'm the boss of this 'ere ship.
I'm the foreman, don't forget it! And begawd I'll let ye know
Who is who and over hatches when the winch begins to go.
North and south and round about it, sail 'er near and sail 'er far.
Any flag you send 'er under, she'll come back the Blazin' Star.
East and west, and let 'er 'ave it; give 'er all the sail she'll take,
Blazin' Star will fetch 'er cargo, or 'er bloomin' back will break.
You should see 'er, washed with waters from 'er bowsprit to 'er starn,
Rise and shake 'erself upon 'em as if she didn't care a darn.
Yes! She's reckoned small and ugly, as they build 'em nowadays,
But she's strong as ever floated from 'er keelson to 'er stays;
Blazin' Star from Boston City! Port to port in ninety days.
With the sea salt white and sparkling, crusted on 'er water-ways.
Rolled around the North Atlantic, tossed about by day or night,
Weather-wore, mayhap, a trifle, but she's spar and timber tight.
Square o' bows and starn, and steady; she's the proper kind 'o grit.
You should see 'er – clear to royals – dip 'er damn Dutch nose in it.
You should see 'er waller through 'em at the Flyin' Dutchman's speed,
With the winds o' hell behind 'er, on the night they lost the Swede.
God o' Glory! She's a scorcher – mainyard under, decks swept clean –
Blazin' Star ain't built for sinking – good old-fashioned brigantine!
Cheers, Rowan