John Masefield

Hell’s Pavement

    ‘When I’m discharged in Liverpool ’n’ draws my bit o’ pay,
      I won’t come to sea no more.
    I’ll court a pretty little lass ’n’ have a weddin’ day,
      ’N’ settle somewhere down ashore.
    I’ll never fare to sea again a-temptin’ Davy Jones,
    A-hearkening to the cruel sharks a-hungerin’ for my bones;
    I’ll run a blushin’ dairy-farm or go a-crackin’ stones,
      Or buy ’n’ keep a little liquor-store,’--
                                      So he said.

    They towed her in to Liverpool, we made the hooker fast,
      And the copper-bound officials paid the crew,
    And Billy drew his money, but the money didn’t last,
      For he painted the alongshore blue,--
    It was rum for Poll, and rum for Nan, and gin for Jolly Jack.
    He shipped a week later in the clothes upon his back,
    He had to pinch a little straw, he had to beg a sack
      To sleep on, when his watch was through,--
                                  So he did.