Four Poems by John Masefield, Poet Laureate

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~ A Ballad of John Silver ~

We were schooner-rigged and rakish,
with a long and lissome hull,
And we flew the pretty colours of the crossbones and the skull;
We'd a big black Jolly Roger flapping grimly at the fore,
And we sailed the Spanish Water in the happy days of yore.

We'd a long brass gun amidships, like a well-conducted ship,
We had each a brace of pistols and a cutlass at the hip;
It's a point which tells against us, and a fact to be deplored,
But we chased the goodly merchant-men and laid their ships aboard.

Then the dead men fouled the scuppers and the wounded filled the chains,
And the paint-work all was spatter dashed with other peoples brains,
She was boarded, she was looted, she was scuttled till she sank.
And the pale survivors left us by the medium of the plank.

O! then it was (while standing by the taffrail on the poop)
We could hear the drowning folk lament the absent chicken coop;
Then, having washed the blood away, we'd little else to do
Than to dance a quiet hornpipe as the old salts taught us to.

O! the fiddle on the fo'c'sle, and the slapping naked soles,
And the genial "Down the middle, Jake, and curtsey when she rolls!"
With the silver seas around us and the pale moon overhead,
And the look-out not a-looking and his pipe-bowl glowing red.

Ah! the pig-tailed, quidding pirates and the pretty pranks we played,
All have since been put a stop to by the naughty Board of Trade;
The schooners and the merry crews are laid away to rest,
A little south the sunset in the islands of the Blest.


------



~ Captain Stratton's Fancy ~

Oh some are fond of red wine, and some are fond of white,
And some are all for dancing by the pale moonlight;
But rum alone's the tipple, and the heart's delight
Of the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French,
And some'll swallow tay and stuff fit only for a wench;
But I'm for right Jamaica till I roll beneath the bench,
Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

Oh some are for the lily, and some are for the rose,
But I am for the sugar-cane that in Jamaica grows;
For it's that that makes the bonny drink to warm my copper nose,
Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

Oh some are fond of fiddles, and a song well sung,
And some are all for music for to lilt upon the tongue;
But mouths were made for tankards, and for sucking at the bung,
Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

Oh some are fond of dancing, and some are fond of dice,
And some are all for red lips, and pretty lasses' eyes;
But a right Jamaica puncheon is a finer prize
To the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

Oh some that's good and godly ones they hold that it's a sin
To troll the jolly bowl around, and let the dollars spin;
But I'm for toleration and for drinking at an inn,
Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

Oh some are sad and wretched folk that go in silken suits,
And there's a mort of wicked rogues that live in good reputes;
So I'm for drinking honestly, and dying in my boots,
Like an old bold mate of Henry Morgan.


-----



~ Trade Winds ~

In the harbor, in the island, in the Spanish Seas,
Are the tiny white houses and the orange trees,
And day-long, night-long, the cool and pleasant breeze
Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.

There is the red wine, the nutty Spanish ale,
The shuffle of the dancers, the old salt's tale,
The squeaking fiddle, and the soughing in the sail
Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.

And o' nights there's fire-flies and the yellow moon,
And in the ghostly palm-trees the sleepy tune
Of the quiet voice calling me, the long low croon
Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.

------



~ Sea Fever ~

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea's face, and a gray dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.


-------




Poet laureate of Great Britain from 1930 until his death in 1967. Masefield himself did not think he was worthy of the appointment, however, upon the recommendation of the British Prime Minister, King George V appointed Masefield, who remained in the office until his death in 1967. The only other person to remain in the office of Laureate for a longer period was Tennyson.

Masefield was born on June 1, 1878, in Ledbury, Herefordshire, England. After his father's death he was looked after by an uncle. Young Masefield wanted to be a merchant marine officer. At 13 he boarded the training ship Conway moored in the river Mersey. After two and a half years on the school ship he was apprenticed aboard a sailing ship that was bound for Chile by way of Cape Horn. In Chile he became ill and had to return to England by steamer. He left the sea and spent several years living in the United States, working chiefly in a carpet factory. At one time, in 1895, to be exact, he worked for a few months as a sort of third assistant bar-keeper and dish-washer in Luke O'Connor's saloon, the Columbia Hotel, in New York City. The place is still there on the corner of Sixth and Greenwich Avenues. He later wrote about that period of his life in an autobiographical work, 'In the Mill', published in 1941.

In 1897 he returned to England determined to succeed as a writer. He worked on newspapers at first. But he never forgot his days at sea. He returned to them again and again in his poems and stories. He wrote about the land too, about typically English things like fox hunting, racing, and outdoor life. In 1902 Masefield published his first volume of poems, 'Salt-Water Ballads'. After that he wrote steadily poems, stories, and plays. In 1903 he married Constance de la Cherois-Crommelin. They had two children.

In World War I Masefield served in the Red Cross in France and on a hospital ship at Gallipoli. His book 'Gallipoli' (1916) is an account of that campaign.

He died on May 12, 1967, near Abingdon in Berkshire, England.


~.~

Comments

[artaxastra.livejournal.com]

Lovely! I always forget I like Masefield!

[geekmama.livejournal.com]

I didn't realize he was the Poet Laureate until I looked him up on Wikipedia. A well-deserved honor. He sounds like a fascinating man.

[doolabug.livejournal.com]

Wonderful! Thanks for these.

[geekmama.livejournal.com]

You're welcome. Glad you enjoyed!

[p0wdermonkey.livejournal.com]

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
I can never read that line without hearing the next by Spike Milligan:
"I left my vest and socks there. I wonder if they're dry."

Lovely piratey poems all!

[geekmama.livejournal.com]

LOL! I'll have to google Spike Milligan!

Glad you enjoyed these.

[teenybuffalo.livejournal.com]

I love all these, but the first one the most. How great that you love them as much as I do!

[geekmama.livejournal.com]

That first one is so very piratey. And they all show a love of sailing and the sea that is very appealing. Glad you enjoyed them!

[cbtreks.livejournal.com]

Ending April on a high note! I've always loved "Sea Fever". Thanks for posting it!

[geekmama.livejournal.com]

This is the last night!! But yes, it'll almost be anti-climactic after this. So happy you enjoyed these. He was a brilliant poet.

[mary684.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much for posting these. I actually let out a huge *sqeeee* when I saw them! Sea Fever has long been a favorite. And for some reason I'm completely charmed by this line from the first:

With the silver seas around us and the pale moon overhead,
And the look-out not a-looking and his pipe-bowl glowing red.

[geekmama.livejournal.com]

That is a great line. There's such a subtle hilarity about that first poem -- so funny, and so horrible at the same time. Glad you enjoyed them all!