When a man is tired there is naught will bind 'im; All 'e solemn promised 'e will shove be'ind ’im. What's the good o' prayin' for The Wrath to strike 'im, (Mary, pity women!) when the rest are like 'im ? What 'ope for me or-it ? What's left for us to do? But this—but this is you! Where can I 'ide or go? Ah, Gawd, I love you so! All the more you give 'em the less are they for givin'! Love lies dead, an' you can not kiss 'im livin'. Down the road 'e led you there is no returnin', (Mary, pily women !) but you're late in learnin'. You'd like to treat me fair ? You can't, because we're pore ? We might, but this is shore: The name, an' lines to show, Ah, Gawd, I love you so! What's the good o pleadin', when the mother that bore you (Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you? Sleep on 'is promises an’ wake to your sorrow, (Mary, pity women!) for we sail to-morrow ! FOR TO ADMIRE. The Injian Ocean sets an' smiles So sof', so bright, so bloomin' blue; There aren't a wave for miles an' miles Excep' the jiggle from the screw. The ship is swep', the day is done, The bugle's gone for smoke an' play; An' black ag'in' the settin' sun The Lascar sings, “Hum deckty hai l"'* For to admire an' for to see, For to be old this world so wide- But I can't drop it if I tried ! I see the sergeants pitchin' quoits, l'ear the women laugh an' talk, I spy upon the quarter-deck The orficers an' lydies walk. *“I'm looking out.” I thinks about the things that was, An' leans an' looks acrost the sea, Till, spite of all the crowded ship, There's no one lef" alive but me. The things that was which I'ave seen, In barrick, camp, an' action too, I tells them over by myself, An' sometimes wonders if they're true; For they was odd-most awful odd But all the same now they are o'er, There must be 'eaps o' plenty such, An' if I wait I'll see some more. Oh, I'ave come upon the books, An' often broke a barrick rule, Be'avin' like a bloomin' fool. Nor never grutched the price I paid, But sat in Clink without my boots, Admirin' 'ow the world was made. Be'old a cloud upon the beam, An' 'umped above the sea appears Old Aden, like a barrick-stove That no one's lit for years an' years! I passed by that when I began, An' I go 'ome the road I came, A time-expired soldier-man With six years' service to 'is name. My girl she said, “Oh, stay with me!” My mother 'eld me to 'er breast. They've never written none, an' so They must 'ave gone with all the restWith all the rest which I'ave seen An' found an' known an' met along. I cannot say the things I feel, But still I sing my evenin' song: For to admire an' for to see, For to be old this world so wideIt never done no good to me, But I can't drop it if I tried ! |