I tell you a tale to-night Which a seaman told to me, With eyes that gleamed in the lanthorn light And a voice as low as the sea.
You could almost hear the stars Twinkling up in the sky, And the old wind woke and moaned in the spars, And the same old waves went by,
Singing the same old song As ages and ages ago, While he froze my blood in that deep-sea night With the things that he seemed to know.
A bare foot pattered on deck; Ropes creaked; then--all grew still, And he pointed his finger straight in my face And growled, as a sea-dog will.
"Do' ee know who Nelson was? That pore little shrivelled form With the patch on his eye and the pinned-up sleeve And a soul like a North Sea storm?
"Ask of the Devonshire men! They know, and they'll tell you true; He wasn't the pore little chawed-up chap That Hardy thought he knew.
"He wasn't the man you think! His patch was a dern disguise! For he knew that they'd find him out, d'you see, If they looked him in both his eyes.
"He was twice as big as he seemed; But his clothes were cunningly made. He'd both of his hairy arms all right! The sleeve was a trick of the trade.
"You've heard of sperrits, no doubt; Well, there's more in the matter than that! But he wasn't the patch and he wasn't the sleeve, And he wasn't the laced cocked-hat.
"_Nelson was just--a Ghost!_ You may laugh! But the Devonshire men They knew that he'd come when England called, And they know that he'll come again.
"I'll tell you the way it was (For none of the landsmen know), And to tell it you right, you must go a-starn Two hundred years or so.
"The waves were lapping and slapping The same as they are to-day; And Drake lay dying aboard his ship In Nombre Dios Bay.
"The scent of the foreign flowers Came floating all around; 'But I'd give my soul for the smell o' the pitch,' Says he, 'in Plymouth Sound.'
"'What shall I do,' he says, 'When the guns begin to roar, An' England wants me, and me not there To shatter 'er foes once more?'
"(You've heard what he said, maybe, But I'll mark you the p'ints again; For I want you to box your compass right And get my story plain.)
"'You must take my drum,' he says, 'To the old sea-wall at home; And if ever you strike that drum,' he says, 'Why, strike me blind, I'll come!