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Poem by Cicely Fox Smith What the Old Man Said "Don't you take no sail off 'er," The Ol' Man said, Wind an' sea rampagin' Fit to wake the dead, — Thrashin' through the Forties In the sleet and 'ail, Runnin' down the Eastin' Under all plain sail. "She's loggin' seventeen An' she's liftin' to it grand, So I'm goin' down below For a stretch off the land. "An' if it gits any worse. Mister, You can come an' call me, But — don't you take no sail off 'er," Said the Ol' Man. Said 'e! Them was the days, sonnies, Them was the men, Them was the ships As we'll never see again. Oh, but it was somethin' Then to be alive — Thrashin' under royals South o' Forty-five . . . When it was — " Don't you take no sail off 'er" The Ol' Man'd say, Beard an' whiskers starin' Stiff with frozen spray — "She's loggin' seventeen, An' she's liftin' to it grand, An' I mean to keep 'er goin' Under all she'll stand. "An' if it gits any worse, Mister, You can send an' call me, But — don't you take no sail off 'er," Said the Ol' Man, Said 'e! Cicely Fox Smith Cicely Fox Smith's other poems: ![]() 1270 Views |
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