IT was a jolly mariner As ever hove a log; He wore his trousers wide and free, And always ate his prog, And blessed his eyes, in sailor-wise, And never shirked his grog. Up spoke this jolly mariner, Whilst walking up and down: -- "The briny sea has pickled me, And done me very brown; But here I goes, in these here clo'es, A-cruising in the town!" The first of all the curious things That chanced his eye to meet, As this undaunted mariner Went sailing up the street, Was, tripping with a little cane, A dandy all complete! He stopped, -- that jolly mariner, -- And eyed the stranger well: -- "What that may be," he said, says he, "Is more than I can tell; But ne'er before, on sea or shore, Was such a heavy swell!" He met a lady in her hoops, And thus she heard him hail: -- "Now blow me tight! but there's a sight To manage in a gale! I never saw so small a craft With such a spread o'sail! "Observe the craft before and aft, -- She'd make a pretty prize!" And then in that improper way He spoke about his eyes, That mariners are wont to use In anger or surprise. He saw a plumber on a roof, Who made a mighty din: -- "Shipmate, ahoy!" the rover cried, "It makes a sailor grin To see you copper-bottoming Your upper decks with tin!" He met a yellow-bearded man, And asked about the way; But not a word could he make out Of what the chap would say, Unless he meant to call him names, By screaming, "Nix furstay!" Up spoke this jolly mariner, And to the man said he: -- "I have n't sailed these thirty years Upon the stormy sea, To bear the shame of such a name As I have heard from thee! "So take thou that!" -- and laid him flat; But soon the man arose, And beat the jolly mariner Across his jolly nose, Till he was fain, from very pain, To yield him to the blows. 'T was then this jolly mariner, A wretched jolly tar, Wished he was in a jolly-boat Upon the sea afar, Or riding fast, before the blast, Upon a single spar! 'T was then this jolly mariner Returned unto his ship, And told unto the wondering crew The story of his trip, With many oaths and curses, too, Upon his wicked lip! As hoping -- so this mariner In fearful words harangued -- His timbers might be shivered, and His le'ward scuppers danged, (A double curse, and vastly worse Than being shot or hanged!) If ever he -- and here again A dreadful oath he swore -- If ever he, except at sea, Spoke any stranger more, Or like a son of -- something -- went A-cruising on the shore! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 12 by THOMAS CAMPION LACK OF STEADFASTNESS; BALLAD by GEOFFREY CHAUCER HYMN TO GOD MY GOD, IN MY SICKNESS by JOHN DONNE IN THE WILDERNESS by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES MAHMOUD by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT THE VIRGIN'S SLUMBER SONG by JOSEPH FRANCIS CARLIN MACDONNELL |