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 Seagoin' Ballads 
 
 OF A 
 
 SAILOR 
 
 Robert L. Thomas, E2c''R" 
 
 U.S.N.R.F. 
 
 
 ILLUSTRATED DRAWINGS 
 
 BY 
 
 HARRY KEYS 
 
 
 
 
Copyright 1921 
 
 by 
 
 Robert L. Thomas 
 
 
 COLUMBUS, OHIO 
 PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR, 1921 
 
 DEC 29 1921 
 
 aaA653298 
 
 <v'- 
 
Dedicated 
 
 TO 
 
 The Ceaseless Rolling 
 OF THE Waves 
 
 SOPT DOWN THOU FAITHFUL SERVANT 
 AND KISS THE DECK FOR ME 
 
 YOU MAY BE RULER ON THE LAND 
 BUT NOW YOUR OUT AT SEA. 
 
Clipping from ^^ Oscillator'' 
 U. S. N. Radio School 
 
 Harvard University 
 
 New Radio "Ki 
 
 P 
 
 It has been said that there is something subtly 
 inspiring about life on the high seas that makes 
 a fellow want to scribble verses. Rudyard Kip- 
 ling was hit by the "sea bug.'* Last June the 8th 
 an embryonic "Kip" graduated from this school 
 in the person of Robert L. Thomas, E(R)2c. 
 
 Thomas is with the Armed Guard detail out 
 of New York; and while off watch on his long 
 trips across the pond, he has been dashing off 
 verses that admirably reflect his "sea moods." 
 His imagery is excellent and with a little more 
 practice in smooth-running metre he will very 
 likely make a name for himself. Below we are 
 publishing one of his verses : 
 
 "THE DREAM OF A WIRELESS OP" 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Tale of a Sailor In France 11 
 
 In an ol' stone house of fortune. 
 The Followers of the Sea 13 
 
 Somehow a feelin's a-callin' me. 
 Our Navy 15 
 
 Back in the luring Navy. 
 In the Heart of the Storm 17 
 
 With a heave and a pitch she plows the foam. 
 "Slim" (Our Gun Pointer) 18 
 
 We pulled in port with an empty poke. 
 When We Return 20 
 
 I have roamed and sought and I've seen it. 
 Nat Low In a Visit To Hades (Gunner's Mate) 22 
 
 Why certainly, Satan, here I am. 
 Consumptive Jim 25 
 
 Well, we had a company of forty-two. 
 Our Quarters In Hasting Hall 27 
 
 We were in the hall named Hasting's. 
 Slackers 29 
 
 Did you ever hear the question. 
 Thanks, Mary 31 
 
 Of all the gifts I have received. 
 The Dream of a Wireless Op 33 
 
 Four o'clock and I went on watch. 
 Again of Michigan 35 
 
 There's a little ol' town in Michigan. 
 A Snuff_, a Dream, and Slim Suven (Ship's Dreamer and 
 
 Barber) 37 
 
 *T'm the guy from Alberta." 
 Where Was Robert When the Sub Popped Up? 41 
 
 We were hittin' along at a lively gait. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Personal Seance 43 
 
 Into the land of reality. 
 "Chow" In the Galley 45 
 
 When your stomach calls with a grinding pain. 
 In the Space of Silence 47 
 
 Twas in the space of silence. 
 In the Land of Yesterday (After the Armistice) 49 
 
 Back in the Land of Yesterday. 
 Back In the Glory Hole 51 
 
 There's a spot on ship called Glory Hole. 
 A Sailor's Dream of a Girl Away 54 
 
 There's a girl that lives in Ohio. 
 The Mountain of Fun 56 
 
 I built me a mountain all laden with gold. 
 The Voice In the Little Pink Rose 57 
 
 I sat in my room at twilight. 
 My Way of Learning 59 
 
 Some poets write for Glory. 
 In the Shades of Haunted Valley 61 
 
 One thousand miles from a living soul. 
 The Blue Bird's Nest 63 
 
 I started in the early spring. 
 Parting Plea To a Pal 65 
 
 Will and Testament. 
 
 10 
 
A TALE OF A SAILOR IN FRANCE 
 
 IN an ol' stone house of fortune, 
 By a shady babbhng brook, 
 A sailor from the Western World 
 Sat with a downcast look. 
 
 He ordered some wine quite thoughtless 
 And paused as he raised the glass 
 
 For in it were shadows of sweetness 
 And the touch of a keen French lass. 
 
 He turned his head with a beckoning smile, 
 
 As if to say, "You're mine." 
 No sooner done than by his side 
 
 There sat this maid divine. 
 
 Now dreams are made and broken 
 
 And hearts set afire by chance. 
 So foreign love unspoken 
 
 Burned hot from one sweet glance. 
 
 Time dwindled fast, and not in vain 
 
 He stole to her chateau 
 And thru French vale and sunlit plain 
 
 They darted to and fro. 
 
 He'd stop on sunny peaks and hills 
 And gaze at the beauty of France ; 
 
 His arms held fast the girl he loved ; 
 They kissed at every chance. 
 
 11 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 The look in her eyes was soothing, 
 And passion nigh took his breath ; 
 
 The sHghtest touch of her Httle hand 
 Was egging his soul to death. 
 
 Of a sudden one day she turned and fled; 
 
 At a distance he saw her pass, 
 And boys, I heard him crying, 
 
 *'My God, but I love that lass." 
 
 So back to the cafe he wandered 
 
 To finish his glass of wine. 
 And there she sat upon the lap 
 
 Of another pal of mine. 
 
 These are the facts as told to me 
 
 As a truth, I'm bound to swear. 
 For I spent a month in Bordeaux, 
 
 And it happened while I was there. 
 
 12 
 
THE FOLLOWERS OF THE SEA 
 
 SOMEHOW a feelin' 's a-callin' me 
 When I land on Mother Earth, 
 To jump a gig, a barge, or float 
 And once more hit the surf. 
 
 It can't be called a sporty life ; 
 
 No music, women or wine; 
 But it holds a grip hard to your soul 
 
 And whispers, "J^^k, you're mine." 
 
 The old sea-hounds are luring; 
 
 I ache to see their grin ; 
 A sturdy gang with human blood 
 
 Where kindness flows within. 
 
 No tommy-rot nor silly smiles 
 
 Infest their salty faces; 
 The music of their heavy voice 
 
 Sounds best of human races. 
 
 Their eye-sight's keen and better still, 
 
 Response which comes so quick; 
 No matter how you weigh these men, 
 
 You'll find them mighty slick. 
 
 Take your old society gang 
 
 Where life is far from true, 
 Where a million beans weigh more than brains 
 
 To bring the crowd to you. 
 
 13 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 Out here, my friend, stands character; 
 
 The fearless rule our gang. 
 And many things are done, you bet, 
 
 With a word of salty slang. 
 
 When you see a sailor on the land, 
 
 His brains seem just a blot, 
 But laugh at him out on the sea, 
 
 He'll pin you to the spot. 
 
 When daylight fades and darkness comes 
 
 Our hearts begin to shine. 
 As the old sea-hounds turn them to wit 
 
 With tales that cool one's spine. 
 
 To you who sit in rocking chairs 
 
 And smile at ways of the sea, 
 You're living only one-half of life, 
 
 Come out, (and sail with me). 
 
OUR NAVY 
 
 BACK in the luring Navy, 
 Back to the place called home, 
 Back where a single battle 
 And a Torp can do 'er alone. 
 
 Oh when I think of the comforts 
 And the protection of Uncle Sam. 
 
 Then is the time I enjoy it; 
 I'm proud I'm a sailor man. 
 
 Chickens are cooped with caution 
 And a dog is tied to a tree, 
 
 But the sailor lad has the universe 
 And the world before him to see. 
 
 Maybe you'll hit a sunny clime 
 And may be a field of snow. 
 
 But what's the odds if every time 
 You're movin' and someplace to go. 
 
 There is always a place not warring 
 And maidens whose hearts are free; 
 
 These are the things that lure you 
 And hold you fast to the sea. 
 
 Stay you old civilians 
 
 In the dress of a year ago 
 
 And you'll be sorry when you hear 
 
 Of the places where we go. 
 
 15 
 
IN THE HEART OF THE STORM 
 
 iVi iSVica S'hiiSK! 
 
IN THE HEART OF THE STORM 
 
 WITH a heave and a pitch she plows the foam 
 With never a groan nor a sigh, 
 But a belching crew sick to the bone 
 And waitin' only to die. 
 
 The old winds howl and the big waves crash 
 
 And the salt spray blinds your eye ; 
 You lie in your bunk held fast by a lash 
 
 Awaitin' the storm to go by. 
 
 The f eelin's Hell and hard to explain ; 
 
 You waft as a bubble of air ; 
 You look at the chow in a sickening way, 
 
 Desiring to clear from there. 
 
 Your head at once turns to a whirl ; 
 
 You're ridin' a merry-go-round, 
 And the stomach pitches with every twirl, 
 
 And the food's a Jonah to down. 
 
 The last resort is a wish to die, 
 
 And you crave for the end to come 
 As you lie there stretched in agony 
 
 With feelin's of woe so dumb. 
 
 Perhaps you have seen some misery 
 
 I thought that I had myself, 
 But I learned a different angle 
 
 On the salt sea's sickly shelf. 
 
"SLIM" 
 (our gun pointer) 
 
 w 
 
 E pulled in port with an empty poke ; 
 
 Our stomachs were gnawing with pain, 
 So we shuffled the wits of our salty gang 
 
 To find a prosperous brain. 
 
 The honor fell to a big tall lad, 
 Whose nick-name was "Seldom Slim" ; 
 
 So we trusted to luck if any struck 
 For the shackles would come to him. 
 
 Now Slim was quiet and sly as Hell, 
 And he promised a liberal sum ; 
 
 He told us to wait at a wayside gate 
 And he'd return with the "mun". 
 
 Now the method that Slim concocted there, 
 
 Is gentle without any doubt. 
 And to keep the secret in our own gang, 
 
 I shall leave the particulars out. 
 
 He played the game in a gentleman's way 
 Known as the old "Grip Case", 
 
 A sort of a psychic turn about 
 Where they look you in the face. 
 
 18 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 He carried back to this wayside gate 
 The scrap-iron we all admire 
 
 And parted it fair upon the square 
 According to our desire. 
 
 "And now," says Slim, "it's easy to trim 
 Most any man you may meet, 
 
 But I'm honest enuf, tho ever so tough, 
 To give each man a receipt. 
 
 19 
 
WHEN WE RETURN 
 
 Ihave roamed and sought and I've seen it; 
 I have landed all over the globe; 
 I have craved what I saw and I got it, 
 And now O step out of the robe. 
 
 I have been where life is all joyous, 
 And where losses outbalanced my gains ; 
 
 I have talked with the very best women 
 And I've followed the wildest of janes. 
 
 I have travelled some wild nights of fury 
 
 And some in a moon serene ; 
 I have done what would quite shock a jury 
 
 And again I have been very clean. 
 
 I have fought where the fights were the hottest; 
 
 I have talked with a peaceful tongue ; 
 I have gone thru Hell with the rottenest 
 
 And laughed at the treacherous rum. 
 
 I have walked thru the houses of shame 
 And I've sat in the House of my God; 
 
 I have ruined perhaps many a name 
 And I've owned with a truth telling nod. 
 
 I have seen all the lights that burn red oil 
 And I've been in the clear sunshine ; 
 
 I've tricked and delved with many a goil 
 And I've acted the scene of refine. 
 
 20 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 I've hit all the bar-rooms where evil is high 
 
 And I've sat where the soive sody-pop; 
 I have played all the games from low to high 
 
 And I've blinded my eye to the markers dot. 
 
 There are things I escaped in the strife 
 
 I hope, my good friend, it is true ; 
 For now I come back for a gentleman's life, 
 
 I leave what I missed for you. 
 
 21 
 
NAT LOW IN A VISIT TO HADES 
 (gunner's mate) 
 
 WHY certainly, Satan, here I am, 
 I came for a little chat; 
 I've argued everyone on board 
 And put them on the mat. 
 
 The last discussion I was in 
 
 Was all concerning beer. 
 But I was changed religiously 
 
 By a bunk mate very near. 
 
 The bunk mate I have reference to, 
 
 Now, Satan, this is right, 
 Protests that morals of every man 
 
 Are lost when he is tight. 
 
 I can't exactly see that way; 
 
 I may be strange no doubt, 
 But where would all clear thinking go 
 
 If booze was left without. 
 
 IVe read all books in Kingdom Come ; 
 
 I read them every day. 
 And novels such as I absorb, 
 
 Amuse in every way. 
 
 22 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 Satan, I feel mean towards you, 
 
 For you let me win one day 
 And then take all the cash I have 
 
 The next time that I play. 
 
 I must be on to the powder room ; 
 
 I've temperatures to take today, 
 But I'll be back in a day or two 
 
 When again I feel this day. 
 
 Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell 
 
 That I'm still eating soup 
 And watching the worms called macaron 
 
 That chill me to my boots. 
 
 23 
 
CONSUMPTIVE JIM 
 
CONSUMPTIVE JIM 
 
 WELL we had a company of forty-two 
 And the best drilled on the ground, 
 So we took the prize before the eyes 
 Of our dear friend, Captain Brown. 
 
 Consumptive Jim had joined the Blue 
 
 And landed in our quarters; 
 He was a sort of a funny chap 
 
 When he had a couple snorters. 
 
 Well lights blew out at ten o'clock 
 And the gang was hungry for sleep, 
 
 When who would slip in but dirty Jim 
 With a jag and muddy feet. 
 
 He'd light the light with his gin breath 
 
 And dance a jig or two ; 
 Then thru the hall would ring a call 
 
 Of a *chief we loved so true. 
 
 Our room was number twenty-four 
 Which the chief wrote on his pad. 
 
 And he signed all up for real hard work 
 Except this snorted lad. 
 
 Well that 'aint all our books relate 
 Of our friend, Consumptive Jim, 
 
 For he used to file our sea bags thru 
 When none of us boys were in. 
 
 25 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 He'd steal our clothes and sell 'em back 
 
 And spend the dough at night 
 Then hit the gang for a payday loan 
 
 And end up gettin' tight. 
 
 We'd pin our eyes when chow time came 
 
 And watch our piece of pie 
 For Consumptive Jim would make a raid 
 
 Without a catching eye. 
 
 Consumptive Jim has passed away, 
 
 I suppose that all is well; 
 He'll trick old Satan some hot day 
 
 By walkin' away with Hell. 
 
 * Chief was "Daddy Long Legs" — Officer in Charge of 
 Quarters. 
 
 26 
 
OUR QUARTERS IN HASTING HALL 
 
 WE were in the hall named Hasting's, 
 Not exactly called a home 
 But we quartered there with bag and clothes 
 And merely a bed alone. 
 
 The guy in the end, the master-of-arms 
 
 Whose hair was turning gray, 
 Had a hard-boiled tongue in an ugly face 
 
 And a damn peculiar way. 
 
 Well he'd make his rounds at ten o'clock 
 And report in his log, "Secure" ; 
 
 He would then go back to his greasy bunk, 
 A regular filthy sewer. 
 
 When morning came and sun burst out, 
 
 Our friend we loved so well 
 Would give one shout that meant "All out !" 
 
 Now wasn't it truly Hell. 
 
 Did you ever wake up in the early morn 
 When you've spent a strenuous night. 
 
 And you want to slip back to sleep again 
 And sleep with all your might ? 
 
 If you don't hit the deck with a wicked leg 
 
 Then on report you go, 
 And you get a chance to clean around 
 
 For maybe a week or so. 
 
 27 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 Well you bounce from bed like a roaring gun 
 And you grab a swob and a broom ; 
 
 You sweep and swop with all your might 
 To have a real neat room. 
 
 Don't kid me, boys, or worry your brains 
 When the gray-haired guy pops in ; 
 
 It's "Clean your room, you lazy fools ; 
 It's the dirtiest I've been 
 
 m. 
 
 Such life to some would go against 
 The very meat and bones, 
 
 But we pass it by just laughingly 
 And blame it on to Jones. 
 
 You soon learn the art of lying 
 And the wisdom of dodging work 
 
 For the one who gets by above the rest 
 Is the one who knows to shirk. 
 
SLACKERS 
 
 DID you ever hear the question 
 Of how to do your part 
 Discussed in all the circles 
 Where rests the coward heart ? 
 
 To dwell upon this question 
 
 Of the "patriotic guy": 
 You never see a service man 
 
 A tryin' to sneak by. 
 
 Of course his face will color 
 
 When the stars and stripes unfurl ; 
 
 But hear this slacker-fellar 
 'Splainin' bravery to his girl : 
 
 "Why certainly, Uncle Sam is right" 
 The coward-man blurts out, 
 
 "Just think what all of us can do! 
 I feel that I could shout." 
 
 Oh those fancy little dress balls 
 Where the fine Dukes sit within 
 
 And brag of all their courage 
 And how "we're bound to win". 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 You bet we'll win ! We know it, 
 And we'll fight 'er to the end 
 But it won't be done by talking 
 Nor the courage that you send. 
 
 Now if you want to win this war 
 
 And set the nations free, 
 Pack up your duds and say goodbye, 
 
 Take the land or take the sea. 
 
THANKS, MARY 
 
 OF all the gifts I have received 
 That give joy every minute 
 None else surpassed the little box 
 With home-made candy in it. 
 
 Perhaps the girl who sent it o'er 
 Had just a patriotic mind 
 
 And thought to cheer some sailor lad 
 Whose memories are behind. 
 
 To me it was quite different ; 
 
 It warmed my very heart; 
 I never shall forget the lass 
 
 Who more than did her part. 
 
 So, thanks to you, kind Mary, 
 May your life be filled with joy; 
 
 Your kindness is recorded deep 
 In the heart of a sailor boy. 
 
 31 
 
THE DREAM OF A WIRELESS OP 
 
THE DREAM OF A WIRELESS OP 
 
 FOUR o'clock and I went on watch, 
 The day was still in mourning, 
 Except in the East where a speckled ray 
 Was a hint of daylight warning. 
 
 Never a sound was heard outside, 
 
 Not even a morning breeze; 
 This silence stuck to my very bones 
 
 And weakness shook my knees. 
 
 A spurt, a jump, I felt afire ; 
 
 A wrench and one sad groan, 
 Then with my pen and writing pad 
 
 I took this from the phone. 
 
 "One million men were killed today 
 And the prize of a million guns; 
 
 Peace reigns again upon the earth; 
 We've slaughtered all the Huns." 
 
 I snatched these words out one by one 
 
 Until the message stopped; 
 Bang, — out the door I made one dash 
 
 And on the bridge I popped. 
 
 ''Behold! my friends, I have some news; 
 
 A new world came tonight; 
 The beast of Hell has closed his eyes 
 
 And we have won the Fight." 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 The old big gong on upper mast 
 Was turned to a liberty bell, 
 
 And the cargo decks, the long trod decks 
 Were filled with a human swell. 
 
 Upon the upper bridge I stood 
 
 With this wireless note in my hand, 
 
 Reading it over aloud and aloud 
 To the cheers of our happy band. 
 
 *'Wake up ! What the Hell, my son ? 
 
 Are you going to sleep all day ? 
 The man on watch should be relieved. 
 
 Get up ! — be on your way." 
 
AGAIN OF MICHIGAN 
 
 THERE'S a little ol' town in Michigan, 
 A great many miles away 
 That often brings me memories 
 While I'm sailing day by day. 
 
 I can picture the verdant woodlands 
 And the soothing air so dear, 
 
 Filled with the chirps of birdies 
 Whose notes are sweet and clear. 
 
 I pause when I think of the valleys 
 And the hills that lovers adore. 
 
 Extending their winding pathways 
 To the heart of a maid in the door. 
 
 There bathed in smiles she 'waits me, 
 Her heart like the shinin' gold, 
 
 And her lips in loving whisper say, 
 "You are welcome to my threshold.' 
 
 She's in for any regular treat 
 
 Whether hunting or camping out, 
 
 Fishing or wading a rapid stream 
 For the sight of a speckled trout. 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 Could life ask better contentment 
 
 Or a kindred pal more true, 
 And yet I am missing all this dream, 
 
 Clinched in the hands of the Blue. 
 
 But I'm coming back from the Navy 
 
 With a mind and heart as of yore, 
 And I'm going straight to the spans again, 
 
 To the smile I saw at the door. 
 
 36 
 
A SNUFF, A DREAM, AND SLIM SUVEN 
 (ship's dreamer and barber) 
 
 I'M the guy from Alberta, 
 A grafter, so they say. 
 But any business I start in, 
 I always make it pay. 
 
 'Tm sought by J. P. Morgan, 
 His famous steeds need care; 
 
 I know my help is needed, 
 But why waste time out there? 
 
 "I've got a better project. 
 
 Some land deals in the West ; 
 
 I'll work it for a year or two. 
 And then I'll quit and rest. 
 
 "Just hold your tongue a minute; 
 
 ril take a snuff or two ; 
 It works quite well with business ; 
 
 Makes my proposals true." 
 
 INTERLUDE — SNUFFING FREELY 
 
 "I'll make some forty thousand 
 
 In at least a year or two, 
 If I have to buy the Brooklyn Bridge 
 
 And charge for walking thru. 
 
 37 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 "But still I see another 
 
 That's worthy of your rate, 
 
 The Captain wants my service 
 Can start as Boatswain's Mate. 
 
 *T have some land in Alberta 
 That's worth a fortune now; 
 
 I know it seems quite funny 
 But I will tell you how. 
 
 'T'll plot this land in city lots 
 And call the Rubes around. 
 
 I'll sell 'em by the thousand 
 And start a regular town. 
 
 *T'll summon all my clients 
 
 And say, 'Now, look here, men. 
 
 We'll name this town in honor 
 Of our prosperous Slim Suven.' 
 
 *T'll marry into fortune, boys, 
 And buy a great big yacht ; 
 
 I'll spend my time in traveling; 
 Oh, could this life but stop." 
 
 MELTED SNOW 
 
 "Oh, goodness gracious, where's my phial? 
 
 And what's that standing there? 
 Well, I'll be damned, I've swung around 
 
 In this ol' barber chair." 
 
 38 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 Boom, boom, boom, boom, madly goes 
 
 The song I love to hear, 
 And in it rests those sneaky spooks 
 
 That make me feel so queer. 
 
 3» 
 
WHERE WAS ROBERT WHEN THE SUB POPPED UP? 
 
WHERE WAS ROBERT WHEN THE SUB 
 POPPED UP? 
 
 WE were hittin' along at a lively gait, 
 And the waves were washin' our deck; 
 A happy crew was singin' songs 
 Till the Watchman showed his neck. 
 
 Well the bells before were tapping eight, 
 A signal for danger, they say; 
 
 I heard the beastly, bloomin' things ; 
 In fact, — I was on my way. 
 
 I don't like to tell just where I went, 
 Of course, — I do not know, 
 
 But the speed that I was hittin' up 
 Could hardly be called ''slow". 
 
 I wasn't the only guy on the ship 
 That lost himself that morn; 
 
 In fact, the whole damned crew blew up 
 In dreams of Gabriel's Horn. 
 
 Well anyhow the sub popped up 
 
 Just fifty feet from stern; 
 The men on watch were just relieved, 
 
 And no one knew whose turn. 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 The boat was small, but seemed to me 
 
 A good size quarter track; 
 And it appeared, perhaps I'm wrong, 
 
 Each man was comin' back. 
 
 I've tried to think just where I was, 
 
 And damned if I can tell. 
 But the smoke I left behind me, boys. 
 
 Went by too fast to smell. 
 
 It's nice to read in the papers 
 
 When you're sittin' home in a chair 
 Of the noble bravery of our boys ; — 
 
 But try your talk out there. 
 
 42 
 
A PERSONAL SEANCE 
 
 INTO the land of reality 
 Where Hfe drips on so free; 
 Into the mist of consciousness, 
 Place me, and let me be. 
 
 Into the land of Self Control 
 Where passions stand outside ; 
 
 Into the heart of your very soul 
 And only you to confide. 
 
 Into the land of Confidence, 
 Ambition — stirred alone, 
 
 Listening not to gossip's rot 
 Of patterns already sown. 
 
 Not in the land of Sirens; 
 
 Oh 1 — to a graceful smile. 
 It's an open path to destruction 
 And easy to walk its mile. 
 
 Stop at the "J" i^ Jealousy, 
 The bane of all mankind; 
 
 It merely sets gray cells back, 
 And Fortune falls behind. 
 
 Follow the simple stimulus 
 And answer in that way. 
 
 Here you are understood by all, 
 No matter what you say. 
 
 43 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 Twisting thought and arguing 
 
 Gains but very Httle; 
 It simply strengthens mystery, 
 
 Makes life a harder riddle. 
 
 With soul awake and heart aglow 
 I now feel quite at ease; 
 
 Tm sure I've cleared my dusty mind 
 Of error's harmful breeze. 
 
"CHOW" IN THE GALLEY 
 
 WHEN your stomach calls with a grinding pain 
 That is answered by bacon and beans, 
 Then you know the feelin' that's graspin' you 
 And all of the misery it means 
 
 The place where we eat is called by some 
 
 The galley or "old chow hall" ; 
 Just room enough for our twenty men ; 
 
 My gracious, but it is small. 
 
 The tables are fine for they're made of pine 
 
 And the seats are nailed to the side; 
 A rough hewn rim most lacking of trim 
 
 Is fixed so the food won't slide. 
 
 Old china-ware that is mostly square 
 
 And the tea-cups composed of tin, 
 Is merely a thought how cleverly wrought 
 
 Was the hardware used within. 
 
 With all of these tools, which we dearly love, 
 
 We sit and we dine like kings ; 
 And I'm afraid when the peace time comes 
 
 We'll all be hating the fancier things. 
 
 Of course there are gluttons among all men 
 
 Who take the joy out of life 
 And make things hard that should be at ease, 
 
 And seldom thev suffer the strife. 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 When under way at a great big meal 
 And dessert is measured by squares, 
 
 These hounds of Hell, who are not real men, 
 Steal over and double their shares. 
 
 It's a circus to watch when things are laid out 
 As they pass from one plate to another; 
 
 But you will agree that out on the sea 
 Each should treat every mate as a brother. 
 
 Through all of this growl and every-day howl, 
 There are half of us laughing with fun, 
 
 For we think of the time of crossing the Rhine 
 And blowing Hell out of the Hun. 
 
 46 
 
IN THE SPACE OF SILENCE 
 
 ''T^WAS in the space of silence 
 A A spot I call my own; 
 
 It doesn't sell by lots, my pal, 
 Nor bud the seed that's sown. 
 
 It's far from all the frivolous life, 
 
 Where dancing is unknown 
 Or pretty maids dressed up in white 
 
 Give pause to where you're goin'. 
 
 I speak of girls as a judgment day, 
 Perhaps they're such to the race. 
 
 Yet I confess to ignorance, friend, 
 They're a mystery in this place. 
 
 The chirping bird which once I heard, 
 
 A thousand years or two, 
 Drifts by my mind as phantom kind 
 
 Or rolls of misty blue. 
 
 The street lights on the corner square 
 Burn dim the whole night long, 
 
 And Mother Clay has much to say 
 To one who hears her song. 
 
 The roses in their bower of charm 
 
 Are merely echoes of red; 
 But still their scent as life is spent 
 
 Enshrouds our fearful dead. 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 Amused ! — ah-ha, it makes me smile ; 
 
 Our show's a lifeless affair, 
 And yet our hearts ring out with joy 
 
 At a whisper of Zephyrous air. 
 
 The moon, our god, our only friend, 
 
 Reflects what you call clay ; 
 In this we see with a mariner's eye, 
 
 Your world as it is today. 
 
 Perhaps the psychic speaks of sex 
 
 And of love of a different kind 
 And the joy that man obtains from it, 
 
 We see, and let we are blind. 
 
 Well in this space of silence 
 
 Our hearts beat true as gold, 
 And the Hfe we live is far beyond 
 
 Your kind or what you're told. 
 
 So let me stay on the dear old sea 
 
 Where my mind is fresh as air, 
 Where I talk to the setting sun and moon 
 
 From my rocking, rolling chair 
 
 48 
 
IN THE LAND OF YESTERDAY 
 (after the armistice) 
 
 BACK in the Land of Yesterday; 
 Back in the peaceful town, 
 Where I passed my days of childhood play 
 And knew not War's stern frown. 
 
 I don't want to read your history 
 Where the pages are filled with war; 
 
 I want to read of romancy things, 
 The same as I did before. 
 
 I've had my fill of fighting 
 And ducking the submarine; 
 
 It's fine to act as a gallant knight; 
 More pleasant, if only a dream. 
 
 There may be lovers of war games; 
 
 They appeal to a class of men; 
 But I'm the sort of a peaceful chap 
 
 That'll leave the fightin' to them. 
 
 Perhaps it's lovely to ride the sea 
 
 When the stars and moon shine high; 
 
 But the feeling's keener, yes by far 
 When I'm sittin' home on the Dry. 
 
 49 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 I'll miss the gang, no doubt of that 
 And the quarrels we flung around, 
 
 But none the less the very best 
 Is a foot on my home ground. 
 
 I'm free, my boys, to roam about 
 In the fields and woodlands of yore; 
 
 Back to the good ol' swimmin' hole. 
 There's where I want my war. 
 
 50 
 
BACK IN THE GLORY HOLE 
 
 THERE'S a spot on ship called Glory Hole 
 Of which few people hear ; 
 The things which give the place its name 
 Are very keen and dear. 
 
 I speak of "dear" as a quantity 
 
 And not of the sweetheart kind, 
 For once you strike this lively hole 
 
 You'll find yourself behind. 
 
 When evening shadows gently creep 
 
 To steal away the light, 
 You need but look in this one nook 
 
 To see a curious sight. 
 
 It's well to say at the very start 
 
 That a man's a man down there, 
 For all he needs to join the gang 
 
 Is a rich and liberal fare. 
 
 It's "Craps", my friend, I'm talking of, 
 
 The sailors' only game. 
 And yet the sport that comes from it 
 
 Stands high in seaman's fame. 
 
 It's roll those bones down the board 
 And snap your fingers loud; 
 
 If you can do this little trick 
 You're ready for the crowd. 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 *'Sh-bang, by gum, it's little Joe; 
 
 Here's a five for a double two. 
 What? — Ten she won't come up, my friend, 
 
 I'll take the bet with you." 
 
 "Ah ! — Little Joe, don't fail me now ; 
 
 There's money on the floor ; 
 I know the dice are cut that way; 
 
 I've seen your face before." 
 
 "Haw ! — there you are, stop 'em" 
 
 And just about to fade 
 As four and three spilled the beans. 
 
 And the dice were shoved to Abe. 
 
 Now Abe, a Jew, the naturalist 
 
 Clutched hard the wicked bones, 
 And as he threw them down the deck 
 
 The crowd was filled with moans. 
 
 He doubled up with every pass 
 
 And made room for a stroke, 
 With eager eyes he looked them o'er 
 
 And murmured, "Boys, I'm broke." 
 
 It's hot all right to start in with. 
 But the crowd soon dwindles down 
 
 To two or three keen sailor lads 
 Known as the "Winning Hound". 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 This is only an inkling 
 
 Of the excitement we have at sea. 
 And yet some curse a sailor's life, 
 
 But it's fast enough for me. 
 
 53 
 
A SAILOR'S DREAM OF A GIRL AWAY 
 
 THERE'S a girl that lives in Ohio, 
 The state that I love best ; 
 And there my mind does wander oft 
 At night when I go to rest. 
 
 A little dream comes creeping in 
 Painting a pretty maid, 
 
 With speaking eyes so easy 
 And a heart, oh, quite afraid. 
 
 Ah ! — those dreams, such pretty dreams, 
 
 Could life in fact replace 
 And fill those fleeting images 
 
 With blood and smiling face. 
 
 She's a gal with fair complexion 
 And eyes, . . . that set me wild, 
 
 Sort of . . . speaking truth and honesty, 
 Sympathetic, like a child. 
 
 She can talk so smooth and easy; 
 
 Makes you think she's all for you, 
 While perhaps you're only floating 
 
 On deceptions heavenly blue. 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 Well — I'll give it to you, Avalyn ; 
 
 You can make or burst the dream, 
 But you can't make me forget you; 
 
 I have pictured you "A QUEEN." 
 
 So, here's to health to Avalyn — 
 
 May her life be filled with joy — 
 But halter up that genius free 
 
 To any other boy. 
 
 55 
 
THE MOUNTAIN OF FUN 
 
 1 BUILT me a mountain all laden with gold 
 With a sweet little maiden wrapped up in a fold ; 
 I pictured her there as the "Queen of Truth," 
 And in emblem of love I titled her "Ruth." 
 
 I looked at this mountain from day to day, 
 And deep in my soul I could hear it say, 
 "My treasures are hidden, one look will disclose 
 The bright shining heart of an opening rose. 
 
 I grabbed at this hint and then starting on 
 I walked all the night until coming of dawn ; 
 I reached the tall peak, my journey well done 
 And there I stood bathed in the rays of the Sun. 
 
 I asked for this love so earnest and true 
 Whose echoes had whispered and thrilled me through, 
 And a voice came to me far away down below : 
 "You have climbed to the limit ; no farther you go." 
 
 So down the mountain I whistled and run 
 Till I got to the foot of this Mountain of Fun. 
 I pictured her now as the Mount of Desire, 
 A measly old hill, and the Queen, a Vampire. 
 
 56 
 
THE VOICE IN THE LITTLE PINK ROSE 
 
 I SAT in my room at twilight, 
 In a doleful, glooomy way, 
 Reflecting my mood by mirror 
 As phantoms light and gay. 
 
 Dismal and dull I idled away 
 Hours so precious and dear; 
 
 Lacking the living stimulus 
 To change my mood so queer. 
 
 My eye fell on the rising moon, 
 
 Its rays so clean and free. 
 And soon my soul was drifting 
 
 Far out across the lea. 
 
 An unseen spot in the woodland, 
 
 Ignored by passers-by 
 Suddenly gleamed with brightness 
 
 Before my searching eye. 
 
 Was it a little Linnet? 
 
 Or a lazy brook? — Who knows? 
 Or perhaps it was an echo 
 
 Of a little smiling rose. 
 
 Ah! — 'twas a Rose of Sunshine 
 
 Which blushed at a streamlet's brink. 
 
 Suffusing its tender bosom 
 With colors of tinted pink. 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 Smiling and singing, — its melody 
 Perfumed with echoes sweet; 
 
 And when its notes had thrilled out 
 It closed itself so neat. 
 
 Why was my heart throbbing 
 And gasping as if for breath ? 
 
 Because this little fairy 
 
 Drove gloomy moods to death. 
 
MY WAY OF LEARNING 
 
 SOME poets write for glory, 
 And some for pleasure alone ; 
 Some write for merely a living, 
 Exchanging their work for a loan. 
 
 There are poems with different meanings, 
 
 But strictly between us two, 
 The contents are usually leaning 
 
 On the facts that are really true. 
 
 To write a verse of any kind 
 Requires your heart and soul 
 
 And character displays itself, 
 If you analyze the scroll. 
 
 There often lie misjudgments, 
 And people are led astray 
 
 By ignoring many writings 
 And the simple things we say. 
 
 I can read a line of Hawthorne 
 Or a verse of Allan Poe 
 
 And tell you pretty nearly 
 The topic facts they know. 
 
 59 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 A Poet who writes of Nature, 
 
 You will find him by a stream 
 Enjoying all the beauties, 
 
 And living in his dream. 
 
 So take this little logic tip 
 In studying nature's game 
 
 You'll usually peg your neighbor 
 In appliance to the same. 
 
 60 
 
IN THE SHADES OF HAUNTED VALLEY 
 
 ONE thousand miles from a living soul 
 Or even a sign of breath 
 Is a land that forms no traveler's goal 
 For fear of the sexual death. 
 
 Into this dark, green valley 
 
 I stumbled and plodded my way, 
 
 Fleeing from childhood's follies 
 Where love first tends to play. 
 
 Guarding my steps so thoughtfully 
 And thinking at every stride, 
 
 I ducked behind the huge white stones 
 For memory wanted to hide. 
 
 On and on I walked with myself, 
 
 Chatting and talking aloud. 
 Shunning the creeping jeers of thought 
 
 That came like a lifeless crowd. 
 
 Slowly I crept to the canyon's right 
 In the midst of a hundred trees. 
 
 Partly to hide my living soul 
 And to steady my weakening knees. 
 
 There sitting by a winding stream 
 Whose waters were never seen 
 
 I stooped and filled my little hat 
 To quench this childish dream. 
 
 61 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 Over a rise in this brooklet 
 
 The nose of a slender canoe 
 Was slowly wagging its presence 
 
 To my lonely rendezvous. 
 
 Into this floating bark I jumped, 
 
 Lured by two moonish eyes 
 And pulled again with all my might 
 
 To the land of the unwise. 
 
 Had I not sworn to wrench myself 
 From lures of the feminine heart 
 
 I could have drifted easily 
 
 Down through this shadowed part. 
 
 But here was the same old stumble 
 
 That sillied my mind before, 
 And again I drifted swiftly 
 
 To those childish dreams of yore. 
 
 Now where can I go to free myself 
 Of the bonds which enslave a man ? 
 
 Can I put them bodily out of life 
 And live in my own little van? 
 
THE BLUE BIRD^S NEST 
 
 1 STARTED in the early spring 
 Each morn with the coming sun 
 To search the world for a singing mate 
 In a plan all neatly spun. 
 
 I roamed far into the woodlands 
 And I waded the quiet brooks ; 
 
 I listened for songs of cheerfulness 
 In dim enchanted nooks. 
 
 Into the land of the flowers 
 
 And the scent of the clover bloom 
 
 Perfumed by gentle showers 
 And kissed by the lovers' moon. 
 
 Ah ! — at a distant echo 
 
 Comes a sympathetic strain, 
 
 Striking its chords in harmony 
 With the music in my brain. 
 
 True as it were we came in sight 
 And chirped our lullaby song 
 
 Telling each other with all our might 
 That love was nothing wrong. 
 
 So late into the moony hours 
 We'd talk, we'd chirp and roam 
 
 Searching the land together 
 In hope of finding a home. 
 
 63 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 A home we found in the highlands 
 
 Where everything was dry ; 
 And we started our task of building 
 
 With the stalks of wheat and rye. 
 
 Our house was soon completed 
 
 And four little eggs of blue 
 Sheltered four little birdies, 
 
 Fluttering with life anew. 
 
 Behold ! — in the dark a stranger 
 
 Came stealing his way at night 
 Disturbing nothing along his path 
 
 Until we came in his sight. 
 
 His hands were cold and icy 
 And he placed them in the nest ; 
 
 If you know this evil omen, 
 I need not tell the rest. 
 
 But anyhow I flew away 
 
 And old revenge regained my mind; 
 And now those little echoes 
 
 Shall always find me blind. 
 
A PARTING PLEA FOR A PAL TO 
 ACCOMPANY YOU 
 
 (in due naval form) 
 (With apologies to Lunclsbury.) 
 
 Radio School, Camp Perry, 
 
 Great Lakes, 111., 
 January 9, 1918. 
 
 From: Robert L. Thomas, E3c"R', USNRF. 
 To: Edward Joseph Dwyer, Y2c, USNRF. 
 
 Subject: Last Will and Testament of Brother Thomas. 
 
 Item I 
 
 1 . I leave to you all of the beautiful surroundings 
 of Great Lakes, which said environment, to me, 
 imposes stillness, nothingness and quietude. 
 
 Iteifi 2 
 
 2. I leave to you the dominion and prudence to 
 clutch all that may in the least way be beneficial 
 to you. 
 
 Item J 
 
 3 . I leave to you the invigorating lake breezes and 
 the chirping robins that characterize the shores 
 of Lake Michigan in the early spring. May 
 "Your" satisfaction of the above be delectable. 
 
 65 
 
SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 
 
 Item 4 
 
 4. I leave to you the patience, tolerance and the 
 refraining of temper to handle the cunning, 
 crafty and annoying gobs, that open their 
 mouths to learn to talk. 
 
 Item 5 
 
 5. I leave to you the hope and success of securing 
 a permanent domicile and that your time of stay 
 will be ample enough to erect a shelf and drive 
 a nail. All of which you understand, Dwyer. 
 
 Item 6 
 
 6. I leave to you my absence, good will and a 
 hearty desire that you will find time enough to 
 leave your most beautiful home town of Chi- 
 cago, to join your old pal in Cambridge, Mass. 
 — You know car-fare is cheap for us. 
 
 Itefw y 
 
 7. To you, the beneficiary, I waive all trials and 
 concessions of others, who through illegal 
 means, may try to deprive you of this will and 
 testament. May your ideas of soft jobs and of 
 happiness pour in torrents upon your threshold. 
 
 With allowances to my shipmates, I am, 
 BuNKY Thomas. 
 
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