And the hewers of wood and the Masons of Mark,
With foc’sle hands of the Sidon run
And Navy Lords from the Royal Ark,
Came and sat down and were merry at mess
As Fellow-Craftsmen—no more and no less.
The Quarries are hotter than Hiram’s forge,
No one is safe from the dog-whips’ reach.
It’s mostly snowing up Lebanon gorge,
And it’s always blowing off Joppa beach;
But once in so often, the messenger brings