Page:McClure's Magazine volume 10.djvu/511

But he's got a laugh that you like, has Bill,
(I likes to hear him laught,)
No matter where,
You can swear Bill's there,
Consumin' his own forced draught.

Bill Sweeny is the feller
When the starboard engine's broke,
He stays below in the scalding steam
Where a man was like to choke;
And he dodges the flyin' cranks, does Bill,
And he climbs past that hammerin' rod;
The rest all run,
But that son-of-a-gun
He shuts her off, b' God!

Bill Sweeny is the bully lad
I likes to see around.
I'd rise to take a drink with Bill
Though six foot under gound.
But Bill, he's soft as a goil, is Bill,
I mind the night he cried,
When he come away
From that hot sick-bay,
And told us old Tom had died.

Bill Sweeny is a fighter
Of the rough and tumble kind,
He laughts when he fights, but he shows his teeth,
I've seen him at it, mind;
He was one of the "Baltimore's" crew, was Bill,
When we had the row down there.
Valparaiso? Say!
Don't forget that day,
Weren't Bill in thet fight for fair?

Say! Did y' hear Bill Sweeny?
He says one night, says he:
"I've got a chanst for a good land job,
But I guess I'll stick to the sea.
I knows meself and me work," says Bill,
"And I'm going to sign once more—
I'm safe all right
On the 'Ampertrite,'
And I'm all at sea, ashore."

Bill Sweeny of the Black Gang—
He's first-class fireman now,
He entered "water-tender"—
But if we has a row,
We lads at the guns has a chanst—but Bill
And the Jacks o' the Dust below,
A-feeding the flame,
Fights just the same —
If they don't—Say!—I'd like to know!

Copyright, 1898, by James Barnes.