Works in the Bulletin 1909

The first lieutenant (Mr. Joseph Cook) was really the navigating officer of the Cabinet. - Roberts, M.H.R.

               'E's a tough ole salt,
                  With a 'ide well tanned,
               An' it ain't 'is fault
                  If the craft is manned
With a motley sort er crew.
An' it is a mixed-up crew. 
But 'e's sailed, 'as 'e, on many a sea,
An' e's journeyed nigh an' fur;
'E's a tough ole, rough ole - not to mention gruff ole,
Bluff ole mar-i-ner.

Fer 'e sailed among The Labor Seas When 'e wus young; An' since that 'e's Been on all sorts o' craft - Abaft And 'fore the mast 'o craft. Fer ther ain't no boat that's bin afloat As 'e don't know ev'ry spar; This sly ole, fly ole, mind-yer-weather-eye ole, Spry ole deep-sea tar.
Once in the ship Re-pub-li-can 'E took a trip As a 'fore-mast man, An' e transhipped in mid-sea, Did 'e - Went overside at sea. Frum a Freetrade raft to a 'Tection craft 'E knows 'em stem to starn. 'E's ratin' as a great un at the art of navigatin', An' 'e ain't got much to larn.
To watch 'im skip, On 's nimble feet, Frum ship to ship Is a 'igh ole treat. Fer 'e don't stop long on none. 'E's done A fair, long cruise on none. But 'e's larned a lot from the points 'e got Since 'is cruisin' fust began, This saine old smarty, sail-with-any-party, Hearty aailor-man.
Now 'e's signed fust mate Fer another trip, Fer to naviprate The Fusion ship; An' a crazy craft she is. Gee-whizz! An' a frail ole tub she is. With a crew o' sorts from all the ports, An' a chance o' mutinee. But 'e'll see the vessel thro' it, if there's any man kin do it, Fer a hard ole salt is 'e.
Fer the best o' mates Is 'im thet's got Cer-tif-i-cates From the 'ole darn lot, When the stormy winds do blow. Yo-ho! When the windy storms do blow. On a Tory tramp 'is callin' damp 'E 'as managed to pursoo. Now 'e 'as to larn twin-screw ways - with 'er nose a-pointin' two ways, An' a fair ole rorty crew.
But 'is eye's glued tight On the compass face, An' 'e'll make a fight Fer the anch'rin' place, Fer the Harbor o' Recess. O, yes, There's a harbor at Recess. An' 'e'll do it yet, with luck, you bet, Fer 'e' allus bin at sea. An' there ain't no glummer salt, lightly-go-an'-comer salt, Rummer sort o'somer-salt than 'e.

The Bulletin, 29 July 1909, p18

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