Whilst each of our little ones bend at her knee—
A prayer for its father repeating.
Yes, it is for Polly’s sake, and the bairns, I’ve been attending,
To all that they’ve been saying of Shipowners and their craft,
And been brooding o’er those wrongs, sir, which the Board o’ Trade means mending,
And at which, when I was reckless, why, I only took and laughed.
So you, please, mustn’t think that Tom Tough is a shirk,
Nor in anyways flustered or frighted,
If he should ask you, whilst he sticks to his work,
To try if those wrongs can’t be righted.