Eight Bells

Eight bells chimed from the fo'c'sle
Back to the chime from the poop;
Out tumbled the port watch, cursing;
The cock crowed loud from the coop.

The sea was bright as a mirror,
The moon was shiny as steel,
When Ginger limped aft at midnight
For to relieve the wheel.

He spat on his hands as he took it
And the course, which was "Full an' by,"
And "'Appy New Year," says Ginger,
And "Same to yourself," says I.

"'Ere's a bit more meat in the lobscouse,
A few more plums in the duff,
A few less kicks wi' the 'alfpence,
A bit more smooth wi' the rough."

"'Ere's grub whenever you're 'ungry
An' drink whenever you're dry,
An' a ''Appy New Year,'" says Ginger,
And "Same to yourself," says I.

From SAILOR'S DELIGHT, edited by Cicely Fox Smith, published by Methuen & Co., London, UK, © 1931, pp. 78-79.

This gruff interchange between sailors changing watches, seems to ring true, especially when holidays come and go while the routine of sailing the ship continues on.

This poem was adapted for singing by Bob Zentz (US), as recorded on his CD titled CLOSE-HAULED, ON THE WIND OF A DREAM, © 2007; an alternative setting was done in 1995 by Alan Fitzsimmons as recorded on SEABOOT DUFF & HANDSPIKE GRUEL by Pinch o' Salt.

The header graphic is by artist Winslow Homer and is appropriately titled "Eight Bells."