Mother Carey?
She's the mother o' the witches'N' all them sort o' rips;
She's a fine gell to look at, but the hitch is,
She's a sight too fond of ships;
She lives upon an iceberg to the norred,'N' her man he's Davy Jones,'N' she combs the weeds upon her
With pore drowned sailors' bones.
She's the mother o' the wrecks, 'n' the
Of all big winds as blows;
She's up to some deviltry or
When it storms, or sleets, or snows;
The noise of the wind's her screamin','I'm arter a plump, young, fine,
Brass-buttoned, beefy-ribbed young
So as me 'n' my mate kin dine.'She's a hungry old rip 'n' a
For sailor-men like we,
She's give a many mariners the gruel'N' a long sleep under sea;
She's the blood o' many a crew upon her'N' the bones of many a wreck,'N' she's barnacles a-growin' on her'N' shark's teeth round her neck.
I ain't never had no schoolin'Nor read no books like you,
But I knows 't ain't healthy to be foolin'With that there gristly two;
You're young, you thinks, 'n' you're lairy,
But if you're to make old bones,
Steer clear,
I says, o' Mother Carey,'N' that there Davy Jones.
From
ER
MS
ND
DS, by John Masefield, published by The
Millan Company,
New York, 1913, pp. 46-47.
Mother Carey was not to be confused with a mermaid.
Take heed and take care! "Rip" a dissolute
The header graphic is from an illustration for Coleridge's
ME OF
HE
NT
ER,
Part 7,
Art Union 1863; plus a photo of Music Hall performer Hayden Coffin in his role in "The Geisha," as a sentimental naval officer, © 1896.
Charley Noble
