There were three sailors of Bristol city, Who took a boat and went to sea.

But first with beef and captain's biscuits And pickled pork they loaded she.

There was gorging Jack and guzzling Jimmy, And the youngest he was little Billee.

Now when they got as far as the Equator They'd nothing left but one split pea.

Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, "I am extremely hungaree."

To gorging Jack says guzzling Jimmy, "We've nothing left, us must eat we."

Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, "With one another we shouldn't agree!

There's little Bill, he's young and tender, We're old and tough, so let's eat he.

"Oh, Billy, we're going to kill and eat you, So undo the b.u.t.ton of your chimie."

When Bill received this information, He used his pocket-handkerchie.

"First let me say my catechism Which my poor mammy taught to me."

"Make haste, make haste," says guzzling Jimmy, While Jack pulled out his snickersnee.

So Billy went up to the main-top gallant mast, And down he fell on his bended knee.

He scarce had come to the twelfth commandment When up he jumps, "There's land I see.

"Jerusalem and Madagascar, And North and South Amerikee: There's the British flag a-riding at anchor, With Admiral Napier, K.C.B."

So when they got aboard of the Admiral's He hanged fat Jack and flogged Jimmee; But as for little Bill, he made him The Captain of a Seventy-Three.

THE SOUTH COUNTRY [Sidenote: _Hilaire Belloc_]

When I am living in the Midlands That are sodden and unkind, I light my lamp in the evening: My work is left behind; And the great hills of the South Country Come back into my mind.

The great hills of the South Country, They stand along the sea: And it's there walking in the high woods, That I could wish to be, And the men that were boys when I was a boy, Walking along with me.

The men that live in North England, I saw them for a day: Their hearts are set upon the waste fells, Their skies are fast and grey; From their castle walls a man may see The mountains far away.

The men that live in West England They see the Severn strong, A-rolling on rough water brown Light aspen leaves along.

They have the secret of the rocks, And the oldest kind of song.

But the men that live in the South Country Are the kindest and most wise, They get their laughter from the loud surf, And the faith in their happy eyes Comes surely from our Sister the Spring, When over the sea she flies; The violets suddenly bloom at her feet She blesses us with surprise.

I never get between the pines But I smell the Suss.e.x air; Nor I never come on a belt of sand But my home is there.

And along the sky the line of the Downs So n.o.ble and so bare.

A lost thing could I never find, Nor a broken thing mend: And I fear I shall be all alone When I get towards the end.

Who will there be to comfort me, Or who will be my friend?

I will gather and carefully make my friends Of the men of the Suss.e.x Weald, They watch the stars from silent folds, They stiffly plough the field.

By them and the G.o.d of the South Country My poor soul shall be healed.

If ever I become a rich man, Or if ever I grow to be old, I will build a house with deep thatch To shelter me from the cold, And there shall the Suss.e.x songs be sung And the story of Suss.e.x told.

I will hold my house in the high wood Within a walk of the sea, And the men that were boys when I was a boy Shall sit and drink with me.

ARAB LOVE-SONG [Sidenote: _Francis Thompson_]

The hunched camels of the night[11]

Trouble the bright And silver waters of the moon.

The Maiden of the Morn will soon Through Heaven stray and sing, Star gathering.

Now while the dark about our loves is strewn, Light of my dark, blood of my heart, O come!

And night will catch her breath up, and be dumb.

Leave thy father, leave thy mother And thy brother; Leave the black tents of thy tribe apart!

Am I not thy father and thy brother, And thy mother?

And thou--what needest with thy tribe's black tents Who hast the red pavilion of my heart?

OUT OF THE MOUTH OF BABES [Sidenote: _Wilfrid Maynell_]

As high up in a house as a nest In a tree, They have gone for the night to their rest, The Babes three.

One will say, when they wake, with arms crossed, "Jesus blest!"

One will cry "Mother mine"--and be lost In that breast.

"Ta-ra-ra," then the littlest maid saith, Two and gay; And loud laughs with the last of her breath, "Boom-de-ay!"

What they say, in their nests, these dear birds, Is all even: For their speech, be whatever their words, Is of Heaven.

THEIR BEST [Sidenote: _Wilfrid Maynell_]

She is a very simple maid-- Nicknamed a "tweeny"; The cook's and housemaid's riven aid, Christ-named Irene.

And when, in lower regions, she Hears hurled request, She laughs or cries: "Oh, right you be, I'll do my best."

Her very best, be very sure!

She holds it fast-- Religion undefiled and pure.

And, at the last, When Life, from this sad house of her, Flits like a guest, She'll curtsy to the Judge: "O Sir, I did my best."

The Judge, for sure, will bow His head; And, round the throne, Angels will know to G.o.d they've led His very own.

This sentence then shall gently fall: "Irene, you Have done your best: and that is all Even G.o.d can do."

MAGNIFICENT ENDS [Sidenote: _Disraeli in "Vivian Grey"_]

In the plenitude of his ambition he stopped one day to enquire in what manner he could obtain his magnificent ends: "The Bar--pooh! law and bad jokes till we are forty; and then with the most brilliant success, the prospect of gout and a coronet. Besides, to succeed as an advocate, I must be a great lawyer, and to be a great lawyer, I must give up my chance of being a great man. The Services in war time are only fit for desperadoes (and that truly am I); but, in peace, are fit only for fools. The Church is more rational. Let me see: I should certainly like to act Wolsey, but the thousand and one chances against me! and truly I feel _my_ destiny should not be on a chance. Were I the son of a millionaire, or a n.o.ble, I might have _all_. Curse on my lot! that the want of a few rascal counters, and the possession of a little rascal blood should mar my fortunes!"

GENIUS, WHEN YOUNG [Sidenote: _Disraeli in "Coningsby"_]