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Romance! Those first-class passengers they like it very well, Printed an' bound in little books; but why don't poets tell? I'm sick of all their quirks an' turns the loves an' doves they dream

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Lord, send a man like Robbie Burns to sing the Song o' Steam!

To match wi' Scotia's noblest speech yon orchestra sublime Whaurto uplifted like the Just the tail-rods mark the time.

The crank-throws give the double-bass, the feed-pump sobs an' heaves,

An' now the main eccentrics start their quarrel on the

sheaves:

Her time, her own appointed time, the rocking link-head

bides,

Till hear that note? - the rod's return whings glimmerin' through the guides.

They're all awa! True beat, full power, the clangin' chorus

goes

Clear to the tunnel where they sit, my purrin' dynamoes.
Interdependence absolute, foreseen, ordained, decreed,
To work, Ye'll note, at any tilt an' every rate o' speed.
Fra skylight-lift to furnace-bars, backed, bolted, braced an'
stayed,

An' singin' like the Mornin' Stars for joy that they are

made;

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While, out o' touch o' vanity, the sweatin' thrust-block says: "Not unto us the praise, or man not unto us the praise! Now, a' together, hear them lift their lesson theirs an' mine:

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"Law, Orrder, Duty an' Restraint, Obedience, Discipline!" Mill, forge an' try-pit taught them that when roarin' they

arose,

An' whiles I wonder if a soul was gien them wi' the blows. Oh for a man to weld it then, in one trip-hammer strain, Till even first-class passengers could tell the meanin' plain! But no one cares except mysel' that serve an' understand

My seven thousand horse-power here. Eh, Lord! They're grand they're grand!

Uplift am I? When first in store the new-made beasties

stood,

Were Ye cast down that breathed the Word declarin' all

things good?

Not so! O' that warld-liftin' joy no after-fall could vex, Ye've left a glimmer still to cheer the Man - the Arrtifex! That holds, in spite o' knock and scale, o' friction, waste an' slip,

An' by that light-now, mark my word—we'll build the

Perfect Ship.

I'll never last to judge her lines or take her curve not I. But I ha' lived an' I ha' worked. 'Be thanks to Thee, Most

High!

An' I ha' done what I ha' done - judge Thou if ill or well — Always Thy Grace preventin' me.

Losh! Yon's the "Stand by" bell. Pilot so soon? His flare it is. The mornin'-watch is set. Well, God be thanked, as I was sayin', I'm no Pelagian yet. Now I'll tak' on.

'Morrn, Ferguson. Man, have ye ever thought

What your good leddy costs in coal? . . . I'll burn 'em down to port.

MULHOLLAND'S CONTRACT

1894

THE fear was on the cattle, for the gale was on the sea,
An' the pens broke up on the lower deck an' let the creatures

free

An' the lights went out on the lower deck, an' no one near but

me.

I had been singin' to them to keep 'em quiet there,

For the lower deck is the dangerousest, requirin' constant

care,

An' give to me as the strongest man, though used to drink and swear.

I see my chance was certain of bein' horned or trod,

For the lower deck was packed with steers thicker 'n peas in a pod,

An' more pens broke at every roll so I made a Contract with God.

An' by the terms of the Contract, as I have read the same,
If He got me to port alive I would exalt His Name,
An' praise His Holy Majesty till further orders came.

He saved me from the cattle an' He saved me from the sea, For they found me 'tween two drownded ones where the roll had landed me

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An' a four-inch crack on top of my head, as crazy as could be.

But that were done by a stanchion, an' not by a bullock at all,
An' I lay still for seven weeks convalessing of the fall,
An' readin' the shiny Scripture texts in the Seaman's
Hospital.

An' I spoke to God of our Contract, an' He says to my prayer: "I never puts on My ministers no more than they can bear. So back you go to the cattle-boats an' preach My Gospel there.

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For human life is chancy at any kind of trade,

"But most of all, as well you know, when the steers are mad

afraid;

"So you go back to the cattle-boats an' preach 'em as I've

said.

"They must quit drinkin' an' swearin', they must n't knife on a blow,

"They must quit gamblin' their wages, and you must preach

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it so;

For now those boats are more like Hell than anything else I know."

I did n't want to do it, for I knew what I should get,

An' I wanted to preach Religion, handsome an' out of the wet,

But the Word of the Lord were laid on me, an' I done what I was set.

I have been smit an' bruisèd, as warned would be the case, An' turned my cheek to the smiter exactly as Scripture says; But following that, I knocked him down an' led him up to Grace.

An' we have preaching on Sundays whenever the sea is calm,
An' I use no knife or pistol an' I never take no harm,
For the Lord abideth back of me to guide my fighting arm.

An' I sign for four-pound-ten a month and save the money clear,

An' I am in charge of the lower deck, an' I never lose a steer; An' I believe in Almighty God an' preach His Gospel here.

The skippers say I'm crazy, but I can prove 'em wrong, For I am in charge of the lower deck with all that doth be

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Which they would not give to a lunatic, and the competition so strong!

THE "MARY GLOSTER"

1894

I'VE paid for your sickest fancies; I've humoured your

crackedest whim

'Dick, it's your daddy, dying; you've got to listen to him!
Good for a fortnight, am I? The doctor told you? He lied.
I shall go under by morning, and
Put that nurse out-

side.

'Never seen death yet, Dickie? Well, now is your time to learn, And you'll wish you held my record before it comes to your

turn.

Not counting the Line and the Foundry, the yards and the village, too,

I've made myself and a million; but I'm damned if I made

you.

Master at two-and-twenty, and married at twenty-threeTen thousand men on the pay-roll, and forty freighters at sea!

Fifty years between 'em, and every year of it fight,

And now I'm Sir Anthony Gloster, dying, a baronite: For I lunched with his Royal 'Ighness - what was it the papers had?

"Not least of our merchant-princes." Dickie, that's me, your

dad!

I did n't begin with askings. I took my job and I stuck;
I took the chances they would n't, an' now they 're calling

it luck.

Lord, what boats I've handled- rotten and leaky and old! Ran 'em, or opened the bilge-cock, precisely as I was told. Grub that 'ud bind you crazy, and crews that 'ud turn you

grey,

And a big fat lump of insurance to cover the risk on the way. The others they durs n't do it; they said they valued their

life

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