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قراءة كتاب On Patrol
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 4
class="poetry">
AS we were running the Channel along, with a rising wind abeam,
Steering home from an escort trip as fast as she could steam,
I'd just come up, relieving Bill, to look for Fritz again,
When I turns to the Skipper an', "Sir," I says, "I 'ears an aeroplane."
An' sure enough, from out o' the clouds astern, we seed 'im come,
An' down the wind the engine sang with a reg'lar oarin' 'um.
The Skipper 'e puts 'is glasses down, an' smilin' says to me,
We don't expect to meet the Boche, or any o' his machines,
From here to France an' back again—except for submarines."
An' 'e looks again at the 'plane above, an' says, "I do believe
It's a fightin' bus—good luck to them—an' lots of London leave."
An' jolly good luck, says I, says I,
To you that's overhead;
An' may you never go dry, go dry,
Or want for a decent bed.
With yer gaudy patch, says I, says I,
Of Red an' White an' Blue—
Oh, may the bullets go by, go by,
An' not be findin' you.
Astonishing luck, says I, says I,
To you an' yer aeroplane;
An' if it's yer joss to die, to die,
May the enemy say as you drop below,
An' you start your final dive:
"Three of us left to see him go,
An' it must be nice for him to know,
A BATTLE-PRAYER
A BATTLE-PRAYER.
SUBMARINES.
WHEN the breaking wavelets pass all sparkling to the sky,
When beyond their crests we see the slender masts go by,
When the glimpses alternate in bubbles white and green,
And funnels grey against the sky show clear and fair between,
When the word is passed along—"Stern and beam and bow"—
"Action stations fore and aft—all torpedoes now!"
When the hissing tubes are still, as if with bated breath
When the Watch beneath the Sea shall crown the great Desire,
And hear the coughing rush of air that greets the word to fire,
We'll ask for no advantage, Lord—but only we would pray
That they may meet this boat of ours upon their outward way.
THE BATTLE-FLEET.
THE moment we have waited long
Is closing on us fast,
When, cutting short the turret-gong,
We'll hear the Cordite's Battle-song
That hails the Day at last.
The clashing rams come driving forth
To meet the waiting shell,
And far away to East and North
Our targets steam to meet Thy Wrath,
We do not ask Thee, Lord, to-day
To stay the sinking sun—
But hear Thy steel-clad servants pray,
And keep, O Lord, Thy mists away
Until Thy work is done.
DESTROYERS.
THROUGH the dark night
And the fury of battle
Pass the destroyers in showers of spray.
As the Wolf-pack to the flank of the cattle,
We shall close in on them—shadows of grey.
In from ahead,
Through shell-flashes red,
We shall come down to them, after the Day.
Whistle and crash
Of salvo and volley
Round us and into us while we attack.
Light on our target they'll flash in their folly,
Fire as they will,
We'll come to them still,
Roar as they may at us—Back—Go Back!
White though the sea
To the shell-flashes foaming,
We shall be there at the death of the Hun.
Only we pray for a star in the gloaming
(Light for torpedoes and none for a gun).
Lord—of Thy Grace
Make it a race,
Over the sea with the night to run.
AN ADMINISTRATIVE VICTORY
AN ADMINISTRATIVE VICTORY.
A tale is told of a captain bold
Of E-boat Seventy-two;
She steered to eastward—pitched and rolled, and Poulson swore at her, damp and cold,
As E-boat captains do.
And off the mouth of the German Bight,
With Borkum on the bow,
She saw the smoke of a German fleet—MIND YOUR FINGERS—SEVENTY FEET!
We're in for business now....
(For enemy ships are hard to find—
You have to take them quick;
So copy the Eastern vulture's rule, that waits for days for an Army mule—
Out to the west from Helgoland
The big grey cruiser steered,
And the glinting rays of a rising sun flashed on funnel and mast and gun,
And—Admiral Schultz's