Some say it was two ’undred foot;
The bottom lay as black as ink.
I guess they ’ad some ugly dreams,
Who reined their ’orses on the brink.
’E’d only time for that one cry;
‘’Ware ’oles!’ says ’e, an’ saves all three.
There may be better deaths to die,
But that one’s good enough for me.
For mind you, ’twas a sportin’ end,
Upon a right good sportin’ day;
They think a deal of ’im down ’ere,
That gent what came from London way.
THE HOME-COMING OF THE ‘EURYDICE’
[Lost, with her crew of three hundred boys, on the last day of her voyage, March 23, 1876. She foundered off Portsmouth, from which town many of the boys came.]
Up with the royals that top the white spread of her!
Press her and dress her, and drive through the foam;
The Island’s to port, and the mainland ahead of her,
Hey for the Warner and Hayling and Home!
Bo’sun, O Bo’sun, just look at the green of it!
Look at the red cattle down by the hedge!
Look at the farmsteading—all that is seen of it,
One little gable end over the edge!’
‘Lord! the tongues of them clattering, clattering,
All growing wild at a peep of the Wight;
Aye, sir, aye, it has set them all chattering,
Thinking of home and their mothers to-night.’
Spread the topgallants—oh, lay them out lustily!
What though it darken o’er Netherby Combe?
’Tis but the valley wind, puffing so gustily—
On for the Warner and Hayling and Home!
‘Bo’sun, O Bo’sun, just see the long slope of it!
Culver is there, with the cliff and the light.
Tell us, oh tell us, now is there a hope of it?
Shall we have leave for our homes for to-night?’