Pictures

'Some likes pictures o' women,' said Bill, 'an' some like 'orses best,' As he fitted a pair of fancy shackles on to his old sea chest, 'But I like pictures o' ships,' said he, 'an' you can keep the rest. An' if I was a ruddy millionaire with dollars to burn that way, Instead of a dead-broke sailorman as never saves his pay, I'd go to some big paintin' guy an' this is what I'd say: 'Paint me the Cutty Sark ,' I'd say, 'or the old Thermopylae , Or the Star o' Peace as I sailed in once in my young days at sea, Shipshape and Blackwall fashion, too, as a clipper ought to be . . . An' you might do 'er outward bound, with a sky full o' clouds, An' the tug just dropping astern, an' gulls flyin' in crowds, An' the decks shiny-wet with rain, an' the wind shakin' the shrouds . . . Or else racin' up Channel with a sou'wester blowin', Stuns'ls set aloft and alow, an' a hoist o' flags showin', An' a white bone between her teeth so's you can see she's goin' . . . Or you might do 'er off Cape Stiff, in the high latitudes yonder, With 'er main deck a smother of white, an' her lee-rail dippin' under, An' the big greybeards racin' by an' breakin' aboard like thunder . . . Or I'd like old Tuskar somewheres abound . . . or Sydney 'Eads maybe . . . Or a couple o' junks, if she's tradin' East, to show it's the China Sea. . . Or Bar Light . . . or the Tail o' the Bank . . . or a glimp o' Circular Quay. An' I don't want no dabs o' paint as you can't tell what they are, Whether they're shadders, or fellers' faces, or blocks, or blobs o' tar, But I want gear as looks like gear, an' a spar that's like a spar. An' I don't care if it's North or South, the Trades or the China Sea, Shortened down or everything set - close-hauled or runnin' free - You paint me a ship as is like a ship . . . an' that'll do for me!''