Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). Verse: 1885–1918. 1922.
The Liner Shes a Lady
T
The Man-o’-War’s ’er ’usband, an’ ’e gives ’er all she needs;
But, oh, the little cargo-boats, that sail the wet seas roun’,
They’re just the same as you an’ me a-plyin’ up an’ down!
All the way by Fratton tram down to Portsmouth ’Ard;
Anythin’ for business, an’ we’re growin’ old—
Plyin’ up an’ down, Jenny, waitin’ in the cold!
An’ if she meets an accident they count it sore disgrace.
The Man-o’-War’s ’er ’usband, and ’e ’s always ’andy by,
But, oh, the little cargo-boats, they’ve got to load or die!
The Man-o’-War’s ’er ’usband, an’ ’e always keeps beside;
But, oh, the little cargo-boats that ’aven’t any man,
They’ve got to do their business first, and make the most they can!
The Man-o’-War’s ’er ’usband, and ’e’d bid ’er stay at home;
But, oh, the little cargo-boats that fill with every tide!
’E’d ’ave to up an’ fight for them for they are England’s pride.
There still would be the cargo-boats for ’ome an’ foreign trade.
The Man-o’-War’s ’er ’usband, but if we wasn’t ’ere,
’E would n’t have to fight at all for ’ome an’ friends so dear.
All the way by Fratton tram down to Portsmouth ’Ard;
Anythin’ for business, an’ we’re growin’ old—
’Ome an’ friends so dear, Jenny, waitin’ in the cold!