A Longshore Chantey

(Amusement was expressed in shipping circles yesterday concerning the openness and freedom with which wharf unionists, in certain quarters, were being exhorted to retain "job control," and to repudiate promises "under duress.")

We're tough ole salts, with our ideas
    well tanned—
(With a yo, heave ho, me hearties!)
An' we does our sailin' all on land—
(With a yo, heave ho, me hearties!)
If we can't be captings, every one,
Our rough seafarin' days is done,
An' the vasty deep henceforth we'll
    shun
(With a yo, heave ho, me hearties!)

Why should the skipper boss the ship
(With a yo, heave ho, me hearties!)
When the cabin-boy might do the
    trip?
(With a yo, heave ho, me hearties!)
The cabin-boy can take 'is trick,
If 'e's a reel good Bolshevik,
It 'e ain't allowed, well 'ere we stick!
(With a yo, heave ho, me hearties!)

Why can't the cook be made first
    mate?
(With a yo, heave ho, me hearties!)
Though 'e's got no cer-tif-i-cate—
(With a yo, heave ho, me hearties!)
Fer we're edicated in these days,
An' all A.B.'s is now B.A.'s.
If they ad their dues they'd be, least
    ways.
(With a yo, heave ho, me hearties!)

We're new-style tars, an' we wants
    our rights—
(With a yo, heave ho, me hearties!)
Like 'ousemaids, we wants our off
    nights—
(With a yo, heave ho, me hearties!)
It's a one-hour watch, an' ten below.
If the ole tub drifts, well, let 'er go!
We ain't 'er owners, lads, an' no—
(Yo, heave ho!
For the watch below!)
Aye, yo, heave ho, me hearties!