War Risks

'Let go aft' . . . and out she slides, Pitching when she meets the tides . . . She for whom our cruisers keep Lordly vigil in the deep . . . Sink or swim, lads, war or no, Let the poor old hooker go! Soon, hull down, will England's shore, Smudged and faint, be seen no more: Soon the following gulls return Where the friendly docklights burn . . . Soon the cold stars, climbing high, March across the empty sky . . . Empty seas beyond her bow (Lord, she's on her lonesome now!) When the white fog, stooping low, Folds in darkness friend and foe . . . When the fast great liners creep Veiled and silent through the deep . . . When the hostile searchlight's eye Sweeps across the midnight sky Lord of light and darkness, then Stretch Thy wing o'er merchantmen! When the waters known of old Death in dreadful shape may hold . . . When the mine's black treachery Secret walks the insulted sea . . . (Lest the people wait in vain For their cattle and their grain), Since Thy name is mercy, then, Lord, be kind to merchantmen!