AVAST, SHIPMATE!

Press, Volume XCIX, Issue 29366, 19 November 1960, Page 12

AVAST, SHIPMATE!

. <B« WHIM WHAM) The so-called “iron men” who sailed wooden ships 60 to 80 years ago were overrated . . . "They were just grubby old men with beards. Those old boys used to float around in a dream and everyone thought the, were marvellous. Their ships were small and no trouble to manoeuvre . . . no administration problems. II anybody played up they threw him over the side."—Commodore N. W. Smith, captain of the Orsova. I must go down to the Sea again (Which I know so Little about) And All I ask is a sailing Ship With her Timbers tarred and stout; With Drake’s Drum and a Bottle of Rum And a Breeze abaft the Beam, A grubby old Boy with a Beard (Ahoy!) And a healthy Scorn of Steam. I must go down to the Sea again In the Way they used to do, Floating around in a grog-tub Dream With a grubby old grog-tub Crew: Swapping a Yarn with the Larboard Watch, The Bosun’s Mate or the Gunner’s; A bit of Old Rope that never could cope With your Thirty-thousand Tonners. I must go down to the Sea again In the Ships of Yesteryear. Poof! to the Perils of the Deep. There’s Nothing a Man should fear. Nothing but Gales and Rocks and Shoals And the green Death roaring round! A grubby old Man with a Beard and an even Chance of getting drowned! I must go down to the Sea again To the Life the old Salts had Away from a Commodore’s Problems there. Rough, and grubby and glad. I must follow the Sails of Captain Hook And the Owl and the Pussycat, far From the Facts of the Case, till I land at the Place Where the real old Sailors are.