The New Morning Part 4

SONGS OF THE TRAWLERS AND SEA POEMS

THE PEOPLE'S FLEET

Out of her darkened fishing-ports they go, A fleet of little ships, whose every name-- _Daffodil_, _Sea-lark_, _Rose_ and _Surf_ and _Snow_, Burns in this blackness like an altar-flame;

Out of her past they sail, three thousand strong, The people's fleet that never knew its worth, And every name is a broken phrase of song To some remembered loveliness on earth.

There's _Barbara Cowie_, _Comely Bank_ and _May_, Christened, at home, in worlds of dawn and dew: There's _Ruth_ and _Kindly Light_ and _Robin Gray_ With _Mizpah_. (May that simple prayer come true!)

Out of old England's inmost heart they sail, A fleet of memories that can never fail.

KILMENY

Dark, dark lay the drifters against the red West, As they shot their long meshes of steel overside; And the oily green waters were rocking to rest When Kilmeny went out, at the turn of the tide; And n.o.body knew where that la.s.sie would roam, For the magic that called her was tapping unseen.

It was well-nigh a week ere Kilmeny came home, And n.o.body knew where Kilmeny had been.

She'd a gun at her bow that was Newcastle's best, And a gun at her stern that was fresh from the Clyde, And a secret her skipper had never confessed, Not even at dawn, to his newly-wed bride; And a wireless that whispered above, like a gnome, The laughter of London, the boasts of Berlin....

O, it may have been mermaids that lured her from home; But n.o.body knew where Kilmeny had been.

It was dark when Kilmeny came home from her quest With her bridge dabbled red where her skipper had died; But she moved like a bride with a rose at her breast, And _Well done Kilmeny!_ the Admiral cried.

Now, at sixty-four fathom a conger may come And nose at the bones of a drowned submarine; But--late in the evening Kilmeny came home, And n.o.body knew where Kilmeny had been.

There's a wandering shadow that stares at the foam, Though they sing all the night to old England, their queen.

Late, late in the evening, Kilmeny came home; And n.o.body knew where Kilmeny had been.

CAP'N STORM-ALONG

They are buffeting out in the bitter grey weather, _Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down!_ _Sea-lark_ singing to _Golden Feather_, And burly blue waters all swelling aroun'.

There's _Thunderstone_ b.u.t.ting ahead as they wallow, With death in the mesh of their deep-sea trawl; There's _Night-Hawk_ swooping by wild _Sea-swallow_; And old Cap'n Storm-along leading 'em all.

_Bashing the seas to a welter of white, Look at the fleet that he leads to the fight.

O, they're dancing like witches to open the ball; And old Cap'n Storm-along's lord of 'em all._

Now, where have you seen such a bully old sailor?

His eyes are as blue as the scarf at his throat; And he rolls on the bridge of his broad-beamed whaler, In yellow sou'wester and oil-skin coat.

In trawler and drifter, in dinghy and dory, Wherever he signals, they leap to his call; They batter the seas to a lather of glory, With old Cap'n Storm-along leading 'em all.

_You'll find he's from Devon, the sailor I mean, Look at his whaler now, shipping it green.

O, Fritz and his "U" boat must crab it and crawl When old Cap'n Storm-along sails to the ball._

Ay, there is the skipper that knows how to scare 'em.

_Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down!_ Look at the sea-wives he keeps in his harem, Wicked young merry-maids, buxom and brown: There's _Rosalind_, the sea-witch, and _Gipsy_ so lissom, All dancing like ducks in the teeth of the squall, With a bright eye for Huns, and a Hotchkiss to kiss 'em; For old Cap'n Storm-along's lord of 'em all.

_Look at him, battering darkness to light!

Look at the fleet that he leads to the fight!

O, hearts that are mighty, in ships that are small, Your old Cap'n Storm-along's lord of us all._

THE BIG BLACK TRAWLER

The very best ship that ever I knew, --_Ah-way O, to me O_-- Was a big black trawler with a deep-sea crew-- _Sing, my bullies, let the bullgine run._

There was one old devil with a broken nose --_Ah-way O, to me O_-- He was four score years, as I suppose-- _But, sing, my bullies, let the bullgine run._

We was wrecked last March, in a Polar storm --_Ah-way O, to me O_-- And we asked the old cripple if his feet was warm-- _Sing, my bullies, let the bullgine run._

And the old, old devil (he was ninety at the most) --_Ah-way O, to me O_-- Roars, "Ay, warm as a lickle piece of toast"-- _So sing, my bullies, let the bullgine run._

"For I soaked my sea-boots and my dungarees --_Ah-way O, to me O_-- In the good salt water that the Lord don't freeze"-- _Oh, sing, my bullies, let the bullgine run._

NAMESAKES

But where's the brown drifter that went out alone?

--_Roll and go, and fare you well_-- Was her name Peggy Nutten? That name is my own.

_Fare you well, my sailor._ They sang in the dark, "Let her go! Let her go!"

And she sailed to the West, where the broad waters flow; And the others come back, but ... the bitter winds blow.

_Ah, fare you well, my sailor._

The women, at evening, they wave and they cheer.

--_Roll and go, and fare you well_-- They're waiting to welcome their lads at the pier.

_Fare you well, my sailor._ They're all coming home in the twilight below; But there's one little boat.... Let her go! Let her go!

She carried my heart, and a heart for the foe.

_Ah, fare you well, my sailor._