A Gun Room Ditty Box by G. Stewart Bowles - Short Stories and Poems about the Royal Navy circa 1898 - The Great Scheme


 
Index
Preface, Intro & Contents
To Explain
Borley
The Naval Mounted 'Orse
A Ward-Room Litany
Below There
The Morning Evolution
Boats!
The Story of Tallock
Raggies
Slate !
The Captain of the Gun
The Great Scheme
The Song of the Snotties
Leader o' the Line
 



(BY AN ADMIRALTY MESSENGER)

" The existing system was introduced by men who had seen war; change is advocated chiefly by men who have seen little nothing of war."-WEEKLY PAPER.

To the bloomin' Council Chamber,
Wich it looks across the Mall,
Comes the Lords of all the Oceans -
Wipes their boots along the 'All
(Wich I 'as to clean hup after,
But-no matter), 'ere they comes;
Lord! we fairly splits with larfter.
Blow the trumpets, bang the drums !
 
Hup they comes with totterin' paces,
Naval Lords in twos an' threes ;
Talkin', some about the Races,
Some about the wintry breeze;
Comes to loose their bloomin' knowledge
Hon the subject for the day,
Wich the same is this 'ere College
Buildin' hover Dartmouth way.
 
First we 'as a big Contractor -
Furry coat an' di'mond pin -
Smilin' like a bloomin' hactor :
Lord ! the way them fellers grin !
Hand 'e spouts a lot o' figures,
'Arf of wich 'e 'opes to claw,
Till my Lords looks black as niggers,
An' says " Gemini " an' " Law ! "
 
Then a Harchitecter feller
Puts a picture on the wall
(Wich 'is boots is rather yeller.....
Wich 'is brains is rather small).
" Ha ! " sez 'e, " I 'umbly venture
This 'ere little plan to bring,
Wich" -'e bangs it in the centre -
" Shows you 'arf the hupper wing."
 
Then there comes a workin' Crammer,
Werry wily, werry deep
(Wick 'is business is to 'ammer
Facts on hinfants 'arf asleep),
And, in base dissimerlation,
" Sirs," sez 'e, " I'm much afraid
As this 'ere new Regilation
Stands to spoil my bloomin' trade."
 
Soon we goes a little faster,
And I blushes werry 'ot,
For to 'ear a hold 'Ead-master
Talkin' hignoramus rot,
Full of Latin, old an' nervis,
Never 'avin' seen the Sea.
Wot's 'e know about the Service ?
Ah ! that fairly muzzles me !
 
Last, through all them varyin' notions,
Stands a Seaman in 'is place,
An' the Salts of all the Hoceans
Trickles gentle hoff 'is face.
" Forty years," sez 'e, " I've been a
Sailin' round the Seas so blue,
But to now I never seen a
Set o' men to think like you.
 
"Wot ! Can blitherin' old equations
Drive a Fleet an' 'old the Sea ?
Can you 'arness up the Nations
Hon a double Rule of Three ?
Leave these 'ere new-fangled notions,
Schools and plans and Crammers, too,
And we still 'ull sweep the hoceans
Like we halways used to do!"
 
But they 'ardly liked to 'ear 'im,
And the fat hofficial mob
Sat there wishin' 'arf to cheer 'im,
Wishin' 'arf to work the job.
So they puts it to the motion,
And the President, sez 'e,
"'Tis a werry strikin' notion,
And, my Lords, it's got to be ! "
 
Backwards from the Council Chamber,
Wick it looks across the Mall,
Comes the Lords of all the Oceans,
Stefn' lightly down the 'All.
Ho ! the jobbers laughs and slobbers,
Hand the Crammers twirls their thumbs,
Bricks and mortar rules the water.
Blow the trumpets, bang the drums