 | Sea Songs |  |
55
SALT JUNK.
Let's sing of a subject that's in every mouth
Of a sailor, wherever he's bound, north or south;
Our owners' invention well worthy some fuss,
Since from it they get all the work that's in us;
The solid that oaks might have hewn from each trunk,
That makes hearts of oak of us, jolly salt junk.
Of a sailor, wherever he's bound, north or south;
Our owners' invention well worthy some fuss,
Since from it they get all the work that's in us;
The solid that oaks might have hewn from each trunk,
That makes hearts of oak of us, jolly salt junk.
What it is, that's a mystery never cleared quite;
Mahogany plainly it looks to the sight;
It chews like that wood and to both, on my life,
A saw you should use as the best sort of knife;
To know one from 'tother, just study a hunk,
'Twill puzzle you quite, so like wood is good junk.
Mahogany plainly it looks to the sight;
It chews like that wood and to both, on my life,
A saw you should use as the best sort of knife;
To know one from 'tother, just study a hunk,
'Twill puzzle you quite, so like wood is good junk.
The knowing-ones other things of it have guessed,
But the jee-up-wo theory's held far the best;
Why were horses created? let's whisper aside,
Not that sailors upon them should balance astride,
But that owners should get from each nag's worn-out trunk,
For their seamen, a jolly good store of salt junk.
But the jee-up-wo theory's held far the best;
Why were horses created? let's whisper aside,
Not that sailors upon them should balance astride,
56
For their seamen, a jolly good store of salt junk.
What's it good for? for two things you'll all take your oath,
It blunts well the teeth and the appetite both;
It's so tough, you can't swallow it dry, so this prog
Was doubtless intended to hint, “Take your grog.”
Will it travel by land alone? just try a hunk
And see if, unwashed down, you'll bolt your sait junk.
It blunts well the teeth and the appetite both;
It's so tough, you can't swallow it dry, so this prog
Was doubtless intended to hint, “Take your grog.”
Will it travel by land alone? just try a hunk
And see if, unwashed down, you'll bolt your sait junk.
Tough prog makes tough hearts, so the truth do I miss
When I guess sailors' toughness is perhaps got from this?
Landsmen thrive on soft meat, so they're soft in the face
And heart, but us sailors land nerves would disgrace;
For work, fight or foundering we're fit from the hunk,
We daily delight in of good break-jaw junk.
When I guess sailors' toughness is perhaps got from this?
Landsmen thrive on soft meat, so they're soft in the face
And heart, but us sailors land nerves would disgrace;
For work, fight or foundering we're fit from the hunk,
We daily delight in of good break-jaw junk.
It's a proof it's our best friend because it's abused;
It's scoffed at and kicked at but never refused;
A wonder to landsmen whose palates it suits
Exactly as would an ungreased pair of boots,
Taken by us with work, song and sea-breeze, a hunk,
After all, isn't so bad, so here's to salt junk.
It's scoffed at and kicked at but never refused;
A wonder to landsmen whose palates it suits
Exactly as would an ungreased pair of boots,
Taken by us with work, song and sea-breeze, a hunk,
After all, isn't so bad, so here's to salt junk.
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