Bill

Free texts and images.
Jump to: navigation, search

Bill
written by John Masefield
Link to further information




He lay dead on the cluttered deck and stared at the cold skies,
With never a friend to mourn for him nor a hand to close his eyes:
"Bill, he's dead," was all they said; "he's dead, 'n' there he lies."

The mate came forrard at seven bells and spat across the rail:
"Just lash him up wi' some holystone in a clout o' rotten sail,
'N', rot ye, get a gait on ye, ye're slower'n a bloody snail!"

When the rising moon was a copper disc and the sea was a strip of steel,
We dumped him down to the swaying weeds ten fathom beneath the keel.
"It's rough about Bill," the fo'c's'le said, "we'll have to stand his wheel."


SemiPD-icon.svg Works by this author are in the public domain in countries where the copyright term is the author's life plus 51 years or less. cs | de | en | eo | es | fr | he | pl | ru | zh
  ▲ top