"And who's your skipper, and what is he like?" "Oh, well, if you want
to know.
I'm sailin' under a hard-case mate as I sailed with years ago;
'E's big an' bucko an' full o' beans, the same as 'e used to be
When I knowed 'im last in the windbag days when first I followed the
sea.
'E was worth two men at the lee fore brace, an' three at the bunt of a
sail;
'E'd a voice you could 'ear to the royal-yards in the teeth of a Cape
'Orn gale;
But now 'e's a full-blown lootenant an' wears the twisted braid,
Commandin' one of 'is Majesty's ships in the North Atlantic trade."

"And what is the ship you're sailin' in?" "Oh, she's a bit of a
terror--
She ain't no bloomin' levvyathan, an' that's no fatal error!
She scoops the seas like a gravy-spoon when the gales are up an'
blowin',
But Fritz 'e loves 'er above a bit when 'er fightin' fangs are
showin'.
The liners go their stately way an' the cruisers take their ease,
But where would they be if it wasn't for us, with the water up to our
knees?
We're wadin' when their soles are wet, we're swimmin' when they wade,
For I tell you small craft gets it a treat in the North Atlantic
trade!"

"And what is the port you're plying to?" "When the last long trick is
done