Part 180 (1/2)

_W. S. Gilbert._

THE s.h.i.+PWRECK

Upon the p.o.o.p the captain stands, As starboard as may be; And pipes on deck the topsail hands To reef the topsail-gallant strands Across the briny sea.

”Ho! splice the anchor under-weigh!”

The captain loudly cried; ”Ho! lubbers brave, belay! belay!

For we must luff for Falmouth Bay Before to-morrow's tide.”

The good s.h.i.+p was a racing yawl, A spare-rigged schooner sloop, Athwart the bows the taffrails all In grummets gay appeared to fall, To deck the mainsail p.o.o.p.

But ere they made the Foreland Light, And Deal was left behind, The wind it blew great gales that night, And blew the doughty captain tight, Full three sheets in the wind.

And right across the tiller head The horse it ran apace, Whereon a traveller hitched and sped Along the jib and vanished To heave the trysail brace.

What s.h.i.+p could live in such a sea?

What vessel bear the shock?

”Ho! starboard port your helm-a-lee!

Ho! reef the maintop-gallant-tree, With many a running block!”

And right upon the Scilly Isles The s.h.i.+p had run aground; When lo! the stalwart Captain Giles Mounts up upon the gaff and smiles, And slews the compa.s.s round.

”Saved! saved!” with joy the sailors cry, And scandalize the skiff; As taut and hoisted high and dry They see the s.h.i.+p unstoppered lie Upon the sea-girt cliff.

And since that day in Falmouth Bay, As herring-fishers trawl, The younkers hear the boatswains say How Captain Giles that awful day Preserved the sinking yawl.

_E. H. Palmer._

UFFIA

When sporgles spanned the floreate mead And cogwogs gleet upon the lea, Uffia gopped to meet her love Who smeeged upon the equat sea.

Dately she walked aglost the sand; The boreal wind seet in her face; The moggling waves yalped at her feet; Pangw.a.n.gling was her pace.