Sea Cook

There ain't no "Tradesman's Entrance" wrote up above his door,
Like you sees on stylish houses on the stylish streets ashore,
So's the butcher an' the baker an' the grocer-man can tell
Where they'll find him when they wants him, an' there isn't any bell
For the butcher an' the grocer an' the baker-man to pull,
For there isn't any tradesmen wi' their baskets brimmin' full
O' fresh meats, an' veg'tables, an' bread an' cake, an' pie.
Ho, the sprays is drivin' over her! She's steerin' full an' bye!
She's plungin' an' she's rollin', an' she's flooded fore an' aft,
An' the sea cook hums a ditty while he's working at his craft.
The sea cook's arms is hairy, an' his hands is strong an' brown,
An' his bare breast is all covered wi' tattooin', up an' down,
Wi' flags, an' girls, an' anchors. Hoh, she's rollin' hard an' fast,
An' the big hailstones is bouncin' high from every spar an' mast!
She's leapin' like a wild stag; she's divin' to the seas.
Salt pork is on the galley stove, an' soup o' yellow peas.
The bright an' shiny mess-kids they are hangin' in a row,
As the cook looks from his galley door an' yells to her to go.
An' now the wind comes harder, an' the gale begins to roar,
An' he throws aside his apron, an' he leaps from out his door.
For the old sea cook's a sailor, an' there's canvas comin' in!
The chain sheets are a-clatterin' an' kickin' up a din,
An' it's time for stowin' tops'ls; the old cook's at his place,
With a downhaul in his fingers an' a grin upon his face.
Bye an' bye he'll serve out salt pork an' thick soup o' yellow peas;
Now he leads a throaty chorus, cryin' challenge to the seas!