Trailing like a wounded duck, working out her soul; Clanging like a smithy-shop after every roll; Just a funnel and a mast lurching through the spray-- So we threshed the Bolivar out across the Bay!
'Felt her hog and felt her sag, betted when she'd break; Wondered every time she raced if she'd stand the shock; Heard the seas like drunken men pounding at her strake; Hoped the Lord 'ud keep his thumb on the plummer-block.
Banged against the iron decks, bilges choked with coal; Flayed and frozen foot and hand, sick of heart and soul; Last we prayed she'd buck herself into judgment Day-- Hi! we cursed the Bolivar--knocking round the Bay!
O her nose flung up to sky, groaning to be still-- Up and down and back we went, never time for breath; Then the money paid at Lloyd's caught her by the heel, And the stars ran round and round dancin' at our death.
Aching for an hour's sleep, dozing off between; 'Heard the rotten rivets draw when she took it green; 'Watched the compass chase its tail like a cat at play-- That was on the Bolivar, south across the Bay.
Once we saw between the squalls, lyin' head to swell-- Mad with work and weariness, wishin' they was we-- Some damned Liner's lights go by like a long hotel; Cheered her from the Bolivar--swampin' in the sea.
Then a grayback cleared us out, then the skipper laughed; “Boys, the wheel has gone to Hell--rig the winches aft! Yoke the kicking rudder-head--get her under way!” So we steered her, pulley-haul, out across the Bay!
Just a pack o' rotten plates puttied up with tar, In we came, an' time enough, 'cross Bilbao Bar.
Overloaded, undermanned, meant to founder, we Euchred God Almighty's storm, bluffed the Eternal Sea!
Seven men from all the world, back to town again, Rollin' down the Ratcliffe Road drunk and raising Cain: Seven men from out of Hell. Ain't the owners gay, 'Cause we took the “Bolivar” safe across the Bay?
Above the portico a flag-staff, bearing the Union Jack, remained fluttering in the flames for some time, but ultimately when it fell the crowds rent the air with shouts, and seemed to see significance in the incident.--DAILY PAPERS.
Winds of the World, give answer! They are whimpering to and fro-- And what should they know of England who only England know?-- The poor little street-bred people that vapour and fume and brag, They are lifting their heads in the stillness to yelp at the English Flag!