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Jerry Bryant and Starboard Mess
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A Jolly Sailor's True Description Of A Man Of War
Jerry Bryant feat. Starboard Mess
When first on board a man-of-war
We go, by press or enter,
And 'longside of our ship we come,
We boldly in her venture.
Such twigging then at we fresh men:
'They're clever fellows,' some say;
While the buffers stand with their rattans,
Crying, 'Keep out of the gangway!'
Then aft upon the quarter-deck
We go, it being common.
Our officers examine us to know who are the seamen.
There's some are seamen, some are freemen,
Some one thing, some another.
Then we down below on the main deck go,
Boys, after one another.
Then up again upon the deck
So briskly, boys, we bundle;
Since we have well secured our peck
We have no cause to grumble.
Then we clap on what we heave upon,
Some piping, others singing.
There's 'Hoist away', likewise 'Belay'
Thus we make a beginning.
The bosun and his mates are piping,
Crying, 'Men, heave a rally!'
And often forward they are piking
To have a rout in the galley.
'What are you about? Away with yez out!'
To leave our vittles we abhor it.
With cuffs and knocks leave kettles and pots,
And the devil cuff 'em for it.
There are snotty boys of midshipmen
Ain't yet done shitting yellow.
As to their age, some hardly ten
Strike many a brave fellow,
Who dare not prate at any rate,
Nor seem in the least to mumble.
They'll frap you still, do what you will;
It is but a folly to grumble.
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'Heave and in sight, men heave away!'
From forward the bosun's calling.
'Heave a turn or two without delay,
Stand by the capstan for pawling.'
Then one and all to the cat do fall;
We haul both strong and able
'Til presently from forward they cry,
'Below, stick out the cable!'
When once our ship it is unmoored
Our swelling sails so neatly,
With foretack and maintack also,
Our sheets hauled aft completely.
Then away we sail on a fresh gale
On a voyage or a station.
Like English hearts we'll play our parts
In defense of the British nation.
The best cry that we like to hear
On board, as I'm a sinner,
Is when from the quarter-deck they call
To the bosun to pipe to dinner.
Such crowding then amongst the men,
Some grumble, others jangle.
You're nobody there without you swear,
And boldly stand the wrangle.
When stormy winds begin to blow
Our ship is in great motion.
To carry our vittles safe down below
It requires a good motion.
We often fall down the hatchway with all,
From the top to the bottom lie sprawling.
Such laughing then among the men,
And loudly the butcher calling.
Now to conclude and make and end
In a full flowing brimmer,
Let everyone drink to his friend:
The bowl it seems to look thinner.
We'll fill it again like sons of men,
And drink bad luck to the purser.
He cheats us with ease of oatmeal and peas,
Such rogues there can't be worser.
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