I'm the donkey-man of a dingy tramp
They launched in 'Eighty-one,
Rickety, old, and leaky too--but some o' the rivets are shining new
Beneath our after-gun.
An' she an' meself are off to sea
From out o' the breaker's hands,
An' we laugh to find such an altered game, for devil a thing we
found the same
When we came off the land.
We used to carry a freight of trash
That younger ships would scorn,
But now we're running a decent trade--howitzer-shell and
hand-grenade,
Or best Alberta corn.
We used to sneak an' smouch along
Wi' rusty side an' rails,
Hoot an' bellow of liners proud--"Give us the room that we're
allowed;
Get out o' the track--the Mails!"
We sometimes met--an' took their wash--
The 'aughty ships o' war,
An' we dips to them--an' they to us--an' on they went in a tearin'
fuss,
But now they count us more.
For now we're "England's Hope and Pride"--
The Mercantile Marine,--
"Bring us the goods and food we lack, because we're hungry, Merchant
Jack"
(As often I have been).
"You're the man to save us now,
We look to you to win;
Wot'd yer like? A rise o' pay? We'll give whatever you like to say,
But bring the cargoes in."
An' here we are in the danger zone,
Wi' escorts all around,
Destroyers a-racing to and fro--"We will show you the way to go,
An' guide you safe an' sound."
"An' did you cross in a comfy way,
Or did you have to run?
An' is the patch on your hull we see the mark of a bump in
'Ninety-three,
Or the work of a German gun?"
"We'll lead you now, and keep beside,
An' call to all the Fleet,
Clear the road and sweep us in--he carries a freight we need to win,
A golden load of wheat."
Yes, we're the hope of England now,
And rank wi' the Navy too;
An' all the papers speak us fair--"Nothing he will not lightly dare,
Nothing he fears to do."
"Be polite to Merchant Jack,
Who brings you in the meat,
For if he went on a striking lay, you'd have to go on your knees and
pray,
With never a bone to eat."
But you can lay your papers down
An' set your fears aside,
For we will keep the ocean free--we o' the clean an' open sea--
To break the German pride.
We won't go canny or strike for pay,
Or say we need a rest;
But you get on wi' the blinkin' War--an' not so much o' your strikes
ashore,
Or givin' the German best.