I never did ‘ave no use for Germans (said Bill the bosun to me,
As he sat on the after hatchway coaming, smoking and drinking his tea);
“Never did ‘ave no use for square’eads, sonny, an’ that’s the truth,
Since I went to sea in the old Lord Clive, back there in the days of my youth.”
“Danes I ‘ave knowed, an’ Swedes I ‘ave knowed, as was white men through and through,
Norwegian — nigger — yeller an’ brown — an’ hardcase citizens too:
I’ve sailed in my time with most of the brands, Dago, Dutchman, and Finn,
But never a decent shipmate yet did I strike in a German skin.”
“Never the feller a man ‘d choose to be with in a watch together,
Never the feller you’d like to know was around in the worst o’ weather,
Never the chap that you’d want by your side when caught aback in a gale,
Or layin’ aloft in your shirt, maybe, off the Plate there shortenin’ sail.”
“All very well for a harbour job they are, as I make no doubt,
Or ‘andin’ plates in a restorong, or sweepin’ the cuddy out;
But I never did ‘ave no use for the beggars, though why I can ‘ardly say,
An’ I always used to ‘ammer ’em good, which I’m glad to ‘ave done to-day!”
“An’ I wish I may lie where the lost ships lie that never mounted a gun,
Them as was raked with shrapnel fire — they could neither fight nor run;
Them as spread the sea with their dead when the day was sunny and fine,
Or went down slow as the dark come on, with their guts ripped out by a mine.”
“I wish I may lie where them ships lie, the little ships an’ big,
Liner an’ tank an’ leaky tramp, barge an’ schooner an’ brig,
The smacks an’ Frenchy onion boats, an’ the poor crews they bore,
Murdered in sight of open day by square’eads makin’ war!”
“I wish I may lie where them ships lie, an’ no more sail the sea,
An’ drink the drink them dead men drank, poor sailormen like me,—
So let me drink if I forget, an’ so for ever lie,
If ever I ship with square’eads more until the day I die.”
“An’ if ever I take a German’s pay again, in steam or sail,
Or ‘andle German cargo more, baulk or barrel or bale,
If ever I put a finger o’ mine on stuff a German owns,
Or ‘elp to fill a German till with workin’ o’ my bones.”
“If ever I risk this life o’ mine, as I ‘ave done before,
To bring some Bremen merchant ‘ome ‘is nitrates or ‘is ore,
I wish I may dream o’ nothin’ but sinkin’ ships an’ drownin’ men,
An’ wake out o’ the dream, an’ sleep, an’ dream it all again,”—
“Dead bodies liftin’ on the swell, — strong seamen once like me, —
An’ fellers wounded, freezin’ to death in open boats at sea, —
Babies, an’ girls with long wet hair, an’ mothers mad with woe,
The devil’s job — the square’eads’ job — I seen it an’ I know!”
“I never did ‘ave no use for Germans — an’ when this war is done,
There may be those who will forget — well, I shall not be one!
And by the ships I pass my word — an’ by them souls I swear —
There’ll be ‘ot times in sailor-town when I meet a square’ead there!”
(Cicely Fox Smith)
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