God bless us all especially the mariners, a small and tight club of brave lads, who challenge the winter gales!
Its our home and business that moves from place to place
But today we're in harbor to mark Christmas Day
With Mass and a meal and a round of Mount Gay
There's Young Jim Fog and I aboard
The others long gone another chapter Lord
Knows that will be told on another tide
Its the three of us this joyful Yuletide
We've each got rooms to call our own
Jim's quarters are off the engine room
Fog bunks where the charts are kept
My cabin's below the quarterdeck
The topsail halyard not required
with the ship in port Jim decided
To hoist a tree to the main mast top
A Christmas tree with tinsel and stuff
We're Christians all aboard the Jake
My beads on a nail above my bunk
Mark I'm a catholic and worn they are
From many a telling when weather stunk
Bein itinerant as we are
Services are somewhat few and far
But Christmas Midnight Mass's been the rule
Which is why the Jake's back in port this Yule
Young Jim and Fog are mates for true
I've planned to make them know that well
Been months now since I sent away
For Navy suits with stripes and braid
That marks them as ships officers
Jim engineer and Fog Navigator
They've no sense of this you know
So this evening should be quite a show
Its the morning watch and I'm off ashore
To the post office to pick up the store
bought duds with the caps and braid
To show these men they passed the grade
I'm back at the change of the forenoon watch
Right straight to my cabin with parcels and such
Jim and Fog ask what I've got
The answer given is this and that
I pipe all hands for the ships noon meal
When we're in port we enjoy the feel
Of eating together not on the fly
As we do when sailing full and bye
We settle down at the galley table
Cod and hard tack made a special style
Called Fish and Bruis from Newfoundland
It may sound rough but its really grand
The work is done so we sit a spell
Time for a tot to wish all well
The rum locker's under my cabin sole
I fetch the cask to begin the dole
The parcels are under my other arm
One to each but with a warn
I'm no tailor so be advised
There be rocks and shoals as to the size
They tear into the paper like a pride of lions
and stop in complete stupefaction
They had no sense of what I'd planned
Words were lost and tears they ran
I said they'd earned them fair and sure
I'd already sworn to the Admiralty board
They'd more than passed the practicum
We wet their certificates with Mount Gay rum
They tried them on large and small
They fit by gar it shocked us all
We laughed and carried on for hours
Then Jim and Fog they said stay here
They each returned and to my surprise
They had two packages each with ribbons and ties
Nothing would do but they had to share
These gifts of theirs right now right there
Young Jim being the mechanical lad made
me a walking stick very grand
from a stave of oak and scrap brass pot
Its head hammered shaped like a true crown knot
For Fog there was a brass oil lamp
Globe and all and frosted white
Hammered fine and polished bright
For Fog to read in his bunk at night
Fog showing a talent unknown so far
Gave Us all fancy rope worked fobs
Of the finest linen cord red white and blue
They set off our waistcoats that's for true
Now it was time to be off to Church
I suggested we three in our uniforms march
Down mainstreet to Mass as proud officers
To thank the Lord for the three friends we are
Poetry by josephus
Read 849 times
Written on 2013-12-25 at 18:09
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XII Christmas on the Jake
Christmas is a working day aboard the Schooner JakeIts our home and business that moves from place to place
But today we're in harbor to mark Christmas Day
With Mass and a meal and a round of Mount Gay
There's Young Jim Fog and I aboard
The others long gone another chapter Lord
Knows that will be told on another tide
Its the three of us this joyful Yuletide
We've each got rooms to call our own
Jim's quarters are off the engine room
Fog bunks where the charts are kept
My cabin's below the quarterdeck
The topsail halyard not required
with the ship in port Jim decided
To hoist a tree to the main mast top
A Christmas tree with tinsel and stuff
We're Christians all aboard the Jake
My beads on a nail above my bunk
Mark I'm a catholic and worn they are
From many a telling when weather stunk
Bein itinerant as we are
Services are somewhat few and far
But Christmas Midnight Mass's been the rule
Which is why the Jake's back in port this Yule
Young Jim and Fog are mates for true
I've planned to make them know that well
Been months now since I sent away
For Navy suits with stripes and braid
That marks them as ships officers
Jim engineer and Fog Navigator
They've no sense of this you know
So this evening should be quite a show
Its the morning watch and I'm off ashore
To the post office to pick up the store
bought duds with the caps and braid
To show these men they passed the grade
I'm back at the change of the forenoon watch
Right straight to my cabin with parcels and such
Jim and Fog ask what I've got
The answer given is this and that
I pipe all hands for the ships noon meal
When we're in port we enjoy the feel
Of eating together not on the fly
As we do when sailing full and bye
We settle down at the galley table
Cod and hard tack made a special style
Called Fish and Bruis from Newfoundland
It may sound rough but its really grand
The work is done so we sit a spell
Time for a tot to wish all well
The rum locker's under my cabin sole
I fetch the cask to begin the dole
The parcels are under my other arm
One to each but with a warn
I'm no tailor so be advised
There be rocks and shoals as to the size
They tear into the paper like a pride of lions
and stop in complete stupefaction
They had no sense of what I'd planned
Words were lost and tears they ran
I said they'd earned them fair and sure
I'd already sworn to the Admiralty board
They'd more than passed the practicum
We wet their certificates with Mount Gay rum
They tried them on large and small
They fit by gar it shocked us all
We laughed and carried on for hours
Then Jim and Fog they said stay here
They each returned and to my surprise
They had two packages each with ribbons and ties
Nothing would do but they had to share
These gifts of theirs right now right there
Young Jim being the mechanical lad made
me a walking stick very grand
from a stave of oak and scrap brass pot
Its head hammered shaped like a true crown knot
For Fog there was a brass oil lamp
Globe and all and frosted white
Hammered fine and polished bright
For Fog to read in his bunk at night
Fog showing a talent unknown so far
Gave Us all fancy rope worked fobs
Of the finest linen cord red white and blue
They set off our waistcoats that's for true
Now it was time to be off to Church
I suggested we three in our uniforms march
Down mainstreet to Mass as proud officers
To thank the Lord for the three friends we are
Poetry by josephus
Read 849 times
Written on 2013-12-25 at 18:09
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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