Somewhere in the locks of the Equinox
And the Tropic of Capricorn.

We bumped right into the Arctic,

Me and me matey, John.

We was near to frizz by the slush and the slizz, For we hadn't our flannels on.

Who'd 'a' thought that a tried explorer
Would start for the Pole like that,
With openwork hose and summer clo'es
And a dinky old Panama hat?

We could see the Eskimoses,
Far out on the ice ashore,
A-turnin' up of their noses

At the comical clo'es we wore.

We could hear the bears on the glaciers
A-laughing kind of amused,

An' there we stud in our seashore duds
A-looking that shamed and confused!

The whirl-i-gig Arctic breezes
They biffed our bark abaft,

And the ice-pack shook with our sneezes,
(For there was a terrible draft).

"Friend John," I yells to me matey,

"Stand ready and warp the boat!"

But I suddenly found that John was drowned, And me alone and afloat.

A DASH TO THE POLE

I was chilled to the heart with terror
At the loss of me matey, John.

223

I was chilled to the feet, for I beg to repeat, That I hadn't me flannels on.

When all of a dog-goned sudden

A peak riz over the sun.

I swear on me soul 'twas the Arctic Pole-
Then what d'ye think I done?

Then what d'ye think I done, sir,
When that pinnacle swung in view?
I done what a wight in a similar plight
With a similar Pole would do.

I swung the hand of the compass

Till straight to the South points she, And soon I divined that the Pole was behind And me in the open sea.

I landed next week at Coney

Where I hitched me bark to a post,
Then I fell in a faint from pneumony
Which I caught on the Arctic coast

Out there on the Archipelago,
In the region of the Horn,
Somewhere in the locks of the Equinox
And the Tropic of Capricorn.

And that is why in summer,

When it's most undeniably warm, I dresses in felt and pelican pelt, Which is suitable clo'es for storm.

And it's highly correct and proper

To start for the Pole like that; But I nevermore goes in me openwork hose And me dinky old Panama hat.

Wallace Irwin

SOUTH SEA STUFF

The Copra soars above the shores
That pearl a sapphire sea.
And, like as not, a Hottentot

Is waiting there for me.

The bay is calm, the fronded palm
With lithe and sinuous grace

Bends o'er the maid and steeps in shade
Her rather shadier face.

And if she stands upon the sands

And wears that wistful smile

Till I appear, I sort of fear

She'll be there quite a while.

Where tabus roam their island home
With taafas on their brows,

Or dive through coves to pluck the loaves
From sun-baked bread-fruit boughs,

For days and days a maiden's gaze

Is fixed upon the blue

That she may mark my white-sailed bark That cleaves the atoll through.

I have not met the lady yet,

And only wish her well,

But none the less I sort of guess

She'll wait there quite a spell.

225

SAILOR'S CONSOLATION

The paruu droops o'er dusky troops

Of aborigines,

Who wait to hail the white man's sail
Upon the tropic seas.

They're keen to wed, so we have read,
And when his ship arrives,

With loving hearts they'll play the parts
Of fond and loyal wives.

But if they wait to share my fate

Beside the creaming foam,

They'll wait in vain - I'll tell 'em plain

I'm quite content at home!

James J. Montague

SAILOR'S CONSOLATION

One night came on a hurricane,
The sea was mountains rolling,
When Barney Buntline turned his quid,
And said to Billy Bowline:

"A strong nor'wester's blowing, Bill.
Hark! Don't you hear it roar now?
Lord help them! How I pities all
Unlucky folks on shore now.

"Foolhardy chaps that live in towns;
What dangers they are all in,
And now lie shaking in their beds
For fear the roof should fall in.
Poor creatures, how they envy us
And wishes, I've a notion,
For our good luck in such a storm
To be upon the ocean.

"And often, Bill, I have been told How folks are killed, and undone, By overturns of carriages,

By fogs and fires in London.

We know what risks all landsmen run,
From noblemen to tailors,

Then, Bill, let us thank Providence

That you and me are sailors."

William Pitt

FOUR DEEP-SEA TARS AND ANOTHER

Two sailors sat by Mona's pier,

Both strangely dressed and rather queer, Said Number One, "What brung us here, By Mona?"

Said Number Two, "Me little tale
Is known to all the men who sail;
I came here steerage, in a whale,
I'm Jonah."

Said Number One to Number Two,
"My job's collecting for a zoo,
The gnat, the elephant, the gnu,

The boa;

"The ape, the adder, and the skunk, All shared me meals, all shared me bunk, I swum ashore when I was drunk,

I'm Noah."

As these two freaks thus voiced their woe Beside them suddenly arose,