| 'Eight Bells' ~~~ C. Fox Smith |
| Eight Bells chimed from the fo'c'sle Back to the chime from the poop; Out tumbled the port watch, cursin'; The cock crowed loud from the coop. The sea was bright as a mirror, The Moon was shiny as steel, When Ginger limped aft at midnight, For to relieve the wheel. He spat on his hands as he took it And the course, which was 'Full an' by' And Happy New Year,' says Ginger, And 'Same to yourself,' says I. 'Ere's a bit more meat in the lobscouse, A few more plums in the duff, A few less kicks wi' the 'alfpence, A bit more smooth, wi' the rough. 'Ere's grub whenever you're 'ungry An' drink whenever you're dry, 'An "'Appy New Year," says Ginger, And 'Same to yourself', says I. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Submitted By: Capt. Chris and Capt. Annie on the beach in Beaufort, NC Thanks folkes ! |