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Derelict

Poem by Cicely Fox Smith

Adapted for singing by Mike Kennedy, ©2012

Printable Version - PDF ~ MP3 - Complete ~ Original Poem ~ Notes

 

"We left her headed in God knows where, in latitude forty-nine,
With a cargo of deals from Puget Sound, and her bow blown off by a mine;
Saw her just as the sun went down and I saw her floating still,
And I hope them deals will let her sink before too long," says Bill.

"It warn't no use to stand by her; she could neither sail nor steer,
With the better part of a thousand miles between her and Cape Clear;
The sea was up to her waterways, and gaining fast below,
And I 'd like to think that she went to her rest as a good ship ought to go.

"For it's bitter hard on a decent ship, look at it like you may,
When she's worked her traverse and done her trick and sailed with the best in her day,
To be floating around like a nine day dance on a Western Ocean swell,
With never a one to hand and reef or ring or strike her bell.

"No one to stand by her halyard pin when it's coming on to blow;
Never the cry of 'Rio Grande' and the watch's stamp and go;
Just the seabirds sitting along the rail and calling the whole day through,
Like the souls of long dead sailormen that used to be her crew.

"No one to watch her binnacle lamps and light the masthead light,
Or scour her planking or scrape her seams when the days are sunny and bright;
No one to sit on her hatch and smoke and yarn when the day is done,
Then say, 'That gear needs reeving new some fine dogwatch, my son!'

"Never a port in all her ports for her to fetch again;
Nothing, only the sea and sky, the sun, the wind and rain;
It's cruel hard on a decent ship, and so I'll tell you true,
That I'd like to think that she went to her rest as a good ship ought to do."

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Original Poem:

Derelict

From Rhymes of the Red Ensign, Cicely Fox Smith,
published by Hodder & Stoughton, London, UK, 1919, pp. 11-12

(Notices to Mariners. North Atlantic Ocean. Derelict reported.)

"We left 'er 'eaded for Lord knows where, in latitude forty-nine,
With a cargo o' deals from Puget Sound, an' 'er bows blown out by a mine;
I seen 'er just as the dark come down—I seen 'er floatin' still,
An' I 'ope them deals'd let her sink afore so long," said Bill.

"It warn't no use to stand by 'er—she could neither sail nor steer—
With the biggest part of a thousand mile between 'er and Cape Clear;
The sea was up to 'er waterways an' gainin' fast below,
But I'd like to know she went to 'er rest as a ship's a right to go.

"For it's bitter 'ard on a decent ship, look at it 'ow you may,
That's worked her traverse an' stood 'er trick an' done 'er best in 'er day,
To be driftin' around like a nine-days-drowned on the Western Ocean swell,
With never a hand to reef an' furl an' steer an' strike the bell.

"No one to tend 'er binnacle lamps an' light 'er masthead light,
Or scour 'er plankin' or scrape 'er seams when the days are sunny an' bright;
No one to sit on the hatch an' yarn an' smoke when work is done,
An' say, 'That gear wants reevin' new some fine dogwatch, my son.'

"No one to stand by tack an' sheet when it's comin' on to blow;
Never the roar of 'Rio Grande' to the watch's stamp-an'-go;
An' the seagulls settin' along the rail an' callin' the long day through,
Like the souls of old dead sailor-men as used to be 'er crew.

"Never a port of all 'er ports for 'er to fetch again,
Nothin' only the sea an' the sky, the sun, the wind an' the rain;
It's cruel 'ard on a decent ship, an' so I tell you true,
An' I wish I knew she 'ad gone to 'er rest as a good ship ought to do."

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Notes:

Tune by Mike Kennedy, ©2009, recorded 10/20/12

The original of this poem can be found in PUNCH magazine, Volume 153, November 21, 1917, p. 356.
It was later published in RHYMES OF THE RED ENSIGN, Hodder & Stoughton, London, UK, © 1919, pp. 11-12.

During the dark days of World War 1 the Admiralty put out many such warnings. Each one with its own story. Here the poet gives the thoughts of a sailor who had been a part of the crew that were forced to abandon ship. The sentiments often occur in old sailors who spend such a time with a vessel that they personify it in their feelings as if it too was a living (or in this case dying) entity.

Cicely Fox Smith naturally used the English spelling as she was an Englishwoman but she also used vernacular spelling or the phonetic equivalent of the speech of the day, especially sailor speak.

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