A great while ago there was a schoolboy who lived in a cottage by the sea,
And the very first thing he could rememberwas the rigging of the schooners by the quay.
He could watch 'em from his bedroom windowwith the big cranes a-hauling out the freight,
And he used to dream of shipping as a sea-cookand a-sailing for the Golden Gate.
He used to buy the yellow penny dreadfuls,he'd read 'em where he fished for conger eels,
As he listened to the slapping of the waterthe green and oily water round the keels,
There were trawlers with their shark-mouthed flatfishand the nets a-hanging out to dry,
And the skate the skipper kept because he liked 'emand the landsmen never knew which ones to fry.
There were brigantines with timber out of Norwayjust oozing with the syrups of the pine,
There were rusty dusty freighters out of Sunderlandand clippers of the Blue Cross Line.
To tumble down the hatch into a cabinwas better than the best of broken rules,
For the smell of 'em was like a Christmas dinnerand the feel of 'em was like a box of tools,
And before he went to sleep in the eveningsthe last thing that he would ever see,
Was the sailormen a-dancing in the moonlightby the capstan that stood beside the quay.
Now he's sitting on a high-stool in London,the Golden Gate is far away,
For they caught him like a squirrel and they caged him,now he's totting up accounts and turning grey,
And he'll never get to San Franciscoand the last thing that he will ever see,
Is the sailormen a-dancing in the moonlightby the capstan that stands beside the quay.
To the tune of the old concertinaby the capstan that stands beside the quay.
Compare this with Noyes' follow up . .
The Escape of the Old Grey
Singer Bob Zentz (US) has arranged this poem for singing, as can be attested by Tom Lewis' recording
ED
GO, 1999.
There is a sequel entitled "The Escape of the Old Grey Squirrel."Charley Noble
