Louis Untermeyer, ed. (1885–1977). Modern British Poetry. 1920.
Anthony C. Deane18701946The Ballad of the Billycock
I
Athirst to grapple with their country’s foes,—
A crew, ’twill be admitted, not numerically fitted
To navigate a battleship in prose.
While lustily the gallant heroes cheered,
And all the air was ringing with the merry bo’sun’s singing,
Till in the gloom of night she disappeared.
A dozen ships of France around her lay,
(Or, if that isn’t plenty, I will gladly make it twenty),
And hemmed her close in Salamander Bay.
“Methinks,” he said, “the odds are somewhat great,
And, in the present crisis, a cabin-boy’s advice is
That you and France had better arbitrate!”
“Pooh! That would be both cowardly and wrong;
Shall I, a gallant fighter, give the needy ballad-writer
No suitable material for song?”
I mean to do my duty, as I ought;
With eager satisfaction let us clear the decks for action
And fight the craven Frenchmen!” So they fought.
Describing all the fight in epic style)
When the Billycock was going, she’d a dozen prizes towing
(Or twenty, as above) in single file!
The memory of that historic day,
And, while we rule the ocean, we will picture with emotion
The Billycock in Salamander Bay!
In praising my productions are remiss—
Quite easily are captured, and profess themselves enraptured,
By patriotic ditties such as this,
Guns, heroism, slaughter, and a fleet—
Ingredients you mingle in a metre with a jingle,
And there you have your masterpiece complete!
To languish on the “All for Twopence” shelf?
The ballad bold and breezy comes particularly easy—
I mean to take to writing it myself!