Songs of Action | Page 7

from the mountain-side,
Shouting
until eventide;
But it dwindled and it died
Ere milking time was over.'
'Nay, but saw you nothing more,
Campesino Garcia?'
'Yes, I saw them lying there,
The little man and
sorrel mare;
And in their ranks the bowmen fair,

With their staves before them.'
'And the hardy men of Spain,
Campesino Garcia?'
'Hush! but we are Spanish too;
More I may not
say to you:
May God's benison, like dew,
Gently settle o'er them.'
PENNARBY MINE
Pennarby shaft is dark and steep,
Eight foot wide, eight hundred deep.

Stout the bucket and tough the cord,
Strong as the arm of
Winchman Ford.
'Never look down!
Stick to the line!'
That was the saying at
Pennarby mine.
A stranger came to Pennarby shaft.
Lord, to see how the miners
laughed!
White in the collar and stiff in the hat,
With his patent
boots and his silk cravat,
Picking his way,
Dainty and fine,
Stepping on tiptoe to Pennarby
mine.
Touring from London, so he said.
Was it copper they dug for? or gold?
or lead?
Where did they find it? How did it come?
If he tried with a
shovel might HE get some?
Stooping so much
Was bad for the spine;
And wasn't it warmish in
Pennarby mine?
'Twas like two worlds that met that day -
The world of work and the
world of play;
And the grimy lads from the reeking shaft
Nudged
each other and grinned and chaffed.
'Got 'em all out!'
'A cousin of mine!'
So ran the banter at Pennarby

mine.
And Carnbrae Bob, the Pennarby wit,
Told him the facts about the pit:

How they bored the shaft till the brimstone smell
Warned them off
from tapping--well,
He wouldn't say what,
But they took it as sign
To dig no deeper in
Pennarby mine.
Then leaning over and peering in,
He was pointing out what he said
was tin
In the ten-foot lode--a crash! a jar!
A grasping hand and a
splintered bar.
Gone in his strength,
With the lips that laughed -
Oh, the pale faces
round Pennarby shaft!
Far down on a narrow ledge,
They saw him cling to the crumbling
edge.
'Wait for the bucket! Hi, man! Stay!
That rope ain't safe! It's
worn away!
He's taking his chance,
Slack out the line!
Sweet Lord be with him!'
cried Pennarby mine.
'He's got him! He has him! Pull with a will!
Thank God! He's over
and breathing still.
And he--Lord's sakes now! What's that? Well!

Blowed if it ain't our London swell.
Your heart is right
If your coat IS fine:
Give us your hand!' cried
Pennarby mine.
A ROVER CHANTY
A trader sailed from Stepney town -
Wake her up! Shake her up! Try
her with the mainsail!
A trader sailed from Stepney town
With a
keg full of gold and a velvet gown:
Ho, the bully rover Jack,
Waiting with his yard aback
Out upon the

Lowland sea!
The trader he had a daughter fair -
Wake her up! Shake her up! Try
her with the foresail
The trader he had a daughter fair,
She had gold
in her ears, and gold in her hair:
All for bully rover Jack,
Waiting with his yard aback,
Out upon the
Lowland sea!
'Alas the day, oh daughter mine!' -
Shake her up! Wake her up! Try
her with the topsail!
'Alas the day, oh daughter mine!
Yon red, red
flag is a fearsome sign!'
Ho, the bully rover Jack,
Reaching on the weather tack,
Out upon
the Lowland sea!
'A fearsome flag!' the maiden cried -
Wake her up! Shake her up! Try
her with the jibsail!
'A fearsome flag!' the maiden cried,
But
comelier men I never have spied!'
Ho, the bully rover Jack,
Reaching on the weather tack,
Out upon
the Lowland sea!
There's a wooden path that the rovers know -
Wake her up! Shake her
up! Try her with the headsails!
There's a wooden path that the rovers
know,
Where none come back, though many must go:
Ho, the bully rover Jack,
Lying with his yard aback,
Out upon the
Lowland sea!
Where is the trader of Stepney town? -
Wake her up! Shake her up!
Every stick a-bending!
Where is the trader of Stepney town?

There's gold on the capstan, and blood on the gown:
Ho for bully rover Jack,
Waiting with his yard aback,
Out upon the
Lowland sea!

Where is the maiden who knelt at his side? -
Wake her up! Shake her
up! Every stitch a-drawing!
Where is the maiden who knelt at his side?

We gowned her in scarlet, and chose her our bride:
Ho, the bully rover Jack,
Reaching on the weather tack,
Right
across the Lowland sea!
So it's up and its over to Stornoway Bay,
Pack it on! Crack it on! Try
her with the stunsails!
It's off on a bowline to Stornoway Bay,

Where the liquor is good and the lasses are gay:
Waiting for their bully Jack,
Watching for him sailing back,
Right
across the Lowland sea.
A BALLAD OF THE RANKS
Who carries the gun?
A lad from over the Tweed.
Then let him go, for well we know
He comes of a soldier breed.
So drink together to rock and heather,
Out where the red deer run,
And stand aside for Scotland's pride -
The