Leavenworth High School - Tech Liber Yearbook (Waterbury, CT)

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All bound for the East On the good ship Marie With a carload of beast For the heathen Chinee. The sun was a-tryin' To wash in the sea. Now no gulls were a-Hyin' 'Bout the good ship Marie Then- Hi there, ye Jackanape, Where 's the skipper, m' lad? There 's a gash in our bulwark The ship 's sinkin' bad. Come forward to the cabin, The skipper shouts out, An' don't come a-laggin' Or I'll hand ye a clout. Now, my men, says the capt'n With a tear in his eye, Fast we're a sinkin' And soon we'l1 die. Q But think o' them porkers Way down in the hold. Think how they'l1 suffer And the water's so cold. Unless we have patchers To nail up the gap, We'll all die like rats, Yes, rats in a trap. Our life boats 're unworthy, The rafters are gone, My heart sinks within me, We're not worth a song. The patchers must be slung Down over the side To hang in the scum And be washed in the tide Their heads below water, Their hammers in handy You rebel at the slaughter, But, men, it takes sand. Page Fifty mne ii? H

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Page Fifty-ei White gleams the gull, Blue rolls the sky, Sharp drives the hull, Fast foam flecks fly. A cleared port, An open sea, The engines snort, The wind's a-lee. Unlashed the sails, Deep rocks the ship Loud lusty hails, A faster clip. A chanty swells Athwart the way The bright sun tells The hour o' day. Old Jack's on deck A-peelin' spuds, Just two full pecks. He's in cook's duds. ght TT-Z 7 5- THE TRAMP SHIP A gruesome band, This tramp ship's crew, From a black Sudan To a stranded Jew. A 'igh 'atted bloke From old John Bully Just now he's broke With a tramp he'll pull A swaggerin' fellow From down Dublin way His laughter is mellow, y His eyes keen and gay. A yellow face, And a long pigtail, From an eastern place These Chinee hail. A crippled Yank, With a wooden leg: Of lowly rank And fond o' the keg.

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'95 -- e 3' What! Some fear in this crowd, No hearts in my men, Who spoke aloud? Tony ? His enemies' friend. An' who else goes with Tony, It does my heart good, An' you, too, Mahoney? God! There 's men in my crew. No. not you slant-eyes, Your b0dy's too frail, You'd be smashed to pieces, And split like a rail. What! You Nero, Sure an' I know your heart's White You were born to be a hero And die in a fight. No more, there's a-plenty, You can't all go, The rest strike a chanty, And don't go below. Page Six ty Can hear them a' hammer? It's heroes they be, Can feel us a quiver And rock with the sea? Look! Up they're a-comin' Their faces are blue, Their hearts are a-poundin' Them, almost in two. Quick! Down to my cabin And carry them fast, Look! Nero's a gaspin' For breath, it's his last. Now for three days more The ship drove again, Anchoring at Sing 'pore With a mighty good crew o' men Anita May Cinq-Mars