THE SAILOR'S SLIP.
(Air—"The Sailor's Journal.")
Spithead, Saturday, July 23rd, 1887.
Lord Ch-rl-s B-r-sf-rd sings:—
'Twas when the Great Review was o'er,
To signal Lady C. I started.
Oh, etiquette's a horrid bore!
I erred, and hence am broken-hearted.
The whole huge Fleet the signal read—
Confound that thoughtless act of folly!
What could I do but bow my head,
And bid a long (?) adieu to Solly?
I hear my name's on every tongue
As a true Sailor, brisk and cheery;
That like a breeze my voice has rung,
And waked the Commons, dull and weary.
I'm little now to mirth inclined,
I'm not, as usual, gay and jolly,
But care I'll whistle down the wind,
And try to make it square with Solly.
You see 'twas getting on for night,
And true-bred tars, e'en midst carouses,
Think with considerate delight
About their sweethearts or their spouses.
Up went my signal, frank and free,
(A breach of rule most melancholy)
To "give the tip" to Lady C.,
And now I have to part with Solly.
"Tell Lady Charles to go on board
The Lancashire Witch, where I will join her"——
And all the Fleet read this and roared.
Well—of strong words Jack's a free coiner,
But never mind what I remarked
When I perceived my act of folly.
They'll think the Naval Lord has larked!
Hang it! I'll say good-bye to Solly.
Such games aboard the Royal Yacht!—
Although I am a chartered rattle,
The Big-wigs won't stand this. 'Tis rot,
But with red-tape who, who can battle?
A private message to my wife
By public signal! Oh, what folly!
It is a lark, upon my life!
But—I'll resign my berth, dear Solly!
Will our good Queen accept? She may,
The Public doubts it altogether.
A sailor's slip on such a day,
A stretch of discipline's tight tether,
Is scarce a heavy fault to score
Against a sailor frank and jolly.
Still, I'll resign when once ashore,
And leave it to my Queen and Solly.