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Her mate was skipper of a chapel in Wales,
And so he fights in topper and tails-
Religi-ous tho' rovin', etc.
Her engineer is fifty-eight,
So he's prepared to meet his fate,
Which ain't unlikely rovin', etc.
Her leading-stoker's seventeen,
So he don't know what the Judgements mean,
Unless he cops 'em rovin', etc.
Her cook was chef in the Lost Dogs' Home,
Mark well what I do say!
And I'm sorry for Fritz when they all come
A-rovin', a-rovin', a-roarin' and a-rovin',
Round the North Sea rovin',
The Lord knows where!
A Truthful Song
<poem> The Bricklayer:
I tell this tale, which is strictly true, Just by way of convincing you How very little, since things were made, Things have altered in the building trade.
A year ago, come the middle of March, We was building flats near the Marble Arch, When a thin young man with coal-black hair Came up to watch us working there.
Now there wasn't a trick in brick or stone Which this young man hadn't seen or known; Nor there wasn't a tool from trowel to maul But this young man could use 'em all!
