The signal!--it streams for the grand fleet to
anchor.
The captains--the trumpets--the hullabaloo!
Stand by for blue-blazes, and mind your
shank-painters,
For the Lord High Admiral, he's squinting
at you!

But give me my _tot_, Matt, before I roll over;
Jock, let's have your flipper, it's good for to
feel;
And don't sew me up without _baccy_ in mouth,
boys,
And don't blubber like lubbers when I turn
up my keel.




JACK ROY

Kept up by relays of generations young
Never dies at halyards the blithe chorus sung;
While in sands, sounds, and seas where the
storm-petrels cry,
Dropped mute around the globe, these halyard
singers lie.
Short-lived the clippers for racing-cups that
run,
And speeds in life's career many a lavish