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You are here: > > Joe Golightly
Joe Golightly
or, The First Lord's Daughter
Fun, n.s. VI - 12 October 1867
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| A tar, but poorly prized, |
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Long, shambling, and unsightly, |
| Thrashed, bullied, and despised, |
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Was wretched JOE GOLIGHTLY. |
| He bore a workhouse brand; |
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No Pa or Ma had claimed him, |
| The Beadle found him, and |
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The Board of Guardians named him. |
| P'raps some Princess's son — |
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A beggar p'raps his mother. |
| He rather thought the one, |
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I rather think the other. |
| He liked his ship at sea, |
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He loved the salt sea-water, |
| He worshipped junk, and he |
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Adored the First Lord's daughter. |
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| The First Lord's daughter, proud, |
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Snubbed Earls and Viscounts nightly; |
| She sneered at Barts. aloud, |
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And spurned poor JOE GOLIGHTLY. |
| Whene'er he sailed afar |
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Upon a Channel cruise, he |
| Unpacked his light guitar |
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And sang this ballad (Boosey): |
| Ballad. |
| The moon is on the sea, |
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Willow! |
| The wind blows towards the lee, |
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Willow! |
| But though I sigh and sob and cry, |
| No Lady Jane for me, |
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Willow! |
| She says, "'Twere folly quite, |
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Willow! |
| For me to wed a wight, |
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Willow! |
| Whose lot is cast before the mast"; |
| And possibly she's right, |
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Willow! |
His skipper (CAPTAIN JOYCE), |
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He gave him many a rating, |
| And almost lost his voice |
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From thus expostulating: |
| "Lay aft, you lubber, do! |
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What's come to that young man, JOE? |
| Belay! — 'vast heaving! you! |
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Do kindly stop that banjo! |
| "I wish, I do — O lor'! — |
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You'd shipped aboard a trader: |
| Are you a sailor or |
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A negro serenader?" |
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| But still the stricken cad, |
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Aloft or on his pillow, |
| Howled forth in accents sad |
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His aggravating "Willow!" |
| Stern love of duty had |
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Been JOYCE'S chiefest beauty; |
| Says he, "I love that lad, |
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But duty, damme! duty! |
| "Twelve years' black-hole, I say, |
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Where daylight never flashes; |
| And always twice a day |
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Five hundred thousand lashes!" |
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| But JOSEPH had a mate |
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A sailor stout and lusty, |
| A man of low estate, |
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But singularly trusty. |
| Says he, "Cheer hup, young JOE! |
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I'll tell you what I'm arter — |
| To that Fust Lord I'll go |
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And ax him for his darter. |
| "To that Fust Lord I'll go |
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And say you love her dearly." |
| And JOE said (weeping low), |
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"I wish you would, sincerely!" |
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| That sailor to that Lord |
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Went, soon as he had landed, |
| And of his own accord |
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An interview demanded. |
| Says he, with seaman's roll, |
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"My Captain (wot's a Tartar) |
| Guv JOE twelve years' black-hole, |
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For lovering your darter. |
| "He loves Miss LADY JANE |
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(I own she is his betters), |
| But if you'll jine them twain, |
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They'll free him from his fetters. |
| "And if so be as how |
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You'll let her come aboard ship, |
| I'll take her with me now." |
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"Get out!" remarked his Lordship. |
| That honest tar repaired |
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To JOE upon the billow, |
| And told him how he'd fared. |
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JOE only whispered, "Willow!" |
| And for that dreadful crime |
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(Young sailors, learn to shun it) |
| He's working out his time; |
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In ten years he'll have done it. |
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Page Created
29 July, 2011
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