Departmental Ditties and Barrack Room Ballads | Page 6

step, miscalled "decease";
When leave, long overdue, none can deny;?When idleness of all Eternity?Becomes our furlough, and the marigold?Our thriftless, bullion-minting Treasury
Transferred to the Eternal Settlement,?Each in his strait, wood-scantled office pent,?No longer Brown reverses Smith's appeals,?Or Jones records his Minute of Dissent.
And One, long since a pillar of the Court,?As mud between the beams thereof is wrought;?And One who wrote on phosphates for the crops?Is subject-matter of his own Report.
These be the glorious ends whereto we pass--?Let Him who Is, go call on Him who Was;?And He shall see the mallie steals the slab?For currie-grinder, and for goats the grass.
A breath of wind, a Border bullet's flight,?A draught of water, or a horse's fright--?The droning of the fat Sheristadar?Ceases, the punkah stops, and falls the night
For you or Me. Do those who live decline?The step that offers, or their work resign??Trust me, Today's Most Indispensables,?Five hundred men can take your place or mine.
BALLADS AND BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS
BALLADS
THE BALLAD OF FISHER'S BOARDING-HOUSE
That night, when through the mooring-chains
The wide-eyed corpse rolled free,?To blunder down by Garden Reach?And rot at Kedgeree,?The tale the Hughli told the shoal?The lean shoal told to me.
'T was Fultah Fisher's boarding-house,?Where sailor-men reside,?And there were men of all the ports?From Mississip to Clyde,?And regally they spat and smoked,?And fearsomely they lied.
They lied about the purple Sea?That gave them scanty bread,?They lied about the Earth beneath,?The Heavens overhead,?For they had looked too often on?Black rum when that was red.
They told their tales of wreck and wrong,?Of shame and lust and fraud,?They backed their toughest statements with?The Brimstone of the Lord,?And crackling oaths went to and fro?Across the fist-banged board.
And there was Hans the blue-eyed Dane,?Bull-throated, bare of arm,?Who carried on his hairy chest?The maid Ultruda's charm--?The little silver crucifix?That keeps a man from harm.
And there was Jake Without-the-Ears,?And Pamba the Malay,?And Carboy Gin the Guinea cook,?And Luz from Vigo Bay,?And Honest Jack who sold them slops?And harvested their pay.
And there was Salem Hardieker,?A lean Bostonian he--?Russ, German, English, Halfbreed, Finn,?Yank, Dane, and Portuguee,?At Fultah Fisher's boarding-house?They rested from the sea.
Now Anne of Austria shared their drinks,?Collinga knew her fame,?From Tarnau in Galicia?To Juan Bazaar she came,?To eat the bread of infamy?And take the wage of shame.
She held a dozen men to heel--?Rich spoil of war was hers,?In hose and gown and ring and chain,?From twenty mariners,?And, by Port Law, that week, men called?her Salem Hardieker's.
But seamen learnt--what landsmen know--?That neither gifts nor gain?Can hold a winking Light o' Love?Or Fancy's flight restrain,?When Anne of Austria rolled her eyes?On Hans the blue-eyed Dane.
Since Life is strife, and strife means knife,?From Howrah to the Bay,?And he may die before the dawn?Who liquored out the day,?In Fultah Fisher's boarding-house?We woo while yet we may.
But cold was Hans the blue-eyed Dane,?Bull-throated, bare of arm,?And laughter shook the chest beneath?The maid Ultruda's charm--?The little silver crucifix?That keeps a man from harm.
"You speak to Salem Hardieker;?"You was his girl, I know.
"I ship mineselfs tomorrow, see,?"Und round the Skaw we go,?"South, down the Cattegat, by Hjelm,?"To Besser in Saro."
When love rejected turns to hate,?All ill betide the man.
"You speak to Salem Hardieker"--?She spoke as woman can.?A scream--a sob--"He called me--names!"?And then the fray began.
An oath from Salem Hardieker,?A shriek upon the stairs,?A dance of shadows on the wall,?A knife-thrust unawares--?And Hans came down, as cattle drop,?Across the broken chairs.

In Anne of Austria's trembling hands?The weary head fell low:--?"I ship mineselfs tomorrow, straight?"For Besser in Saro;?"Und there Ultruda comes to me?"At Easter, und I go--
"South, down the Cattegat--What's here??"There--are--no--lights--to guide!"?The mutter ceased, the spirit passed,?And Anne of Austria cried?In Fultah Fisher's boarding-house?When Hans the mighty died.
Thus slew they Hans the blue-eyed Dane,?Bull-throated, bare of arm,?But Anne of Austria looted first?The maid Ultruda's charm--?The little silver crucifix?That keeps a man from harm.
AS THE BELL CLINKS
As I left the Halls at Lumley, rose the vision of a comely?Maid last season worshipped dumbly, watched with fervor from afar; And I wondered idly, blindly, if the maid would greet me kindly.
That was all--the rest was settled by the clinking tonga-bar. Yea, my life and hers were coupled by the tonga coupling-bar.
For my misty meditation, at the second changin'-station,?Suffered sudden dislocation, fled before the tuneless jar?Of a Wagner obbligato, scherzo, doublehand staccato,?Played on either pony's saddle by the clacking tonga-bar--
Played with human speech, I fancied, by the jigging, jolting bar.
"She was sweet," thought I, "last season, but 'twere surely wild unreason Such tiny hope to freeze on as was offered by my Star,?When she whispered, something sadly: 'I--we feel your going badly!'" "And you let the chance escape you?" rapped the rattling tonga-bar.
"What a chance and what an idiot!" clicked the vicious tonga-bar.
Heart of man--oh, heart of putty! Had I gone by Kakahutti,?On the old Hill-road and rutty, I had 'scaped that fatal car. But his fortune each must bide by, so I