The Martinet.

Some time ago, in simple verse     I sang the story true     Of Captain Reece, the Mantelpiece,     And all her happy crew.     I showed how any captain may     Attach his men to him,     If he but heeds their smallest needs,     And studies every whim.     Now mark how, by Draconic rule     And hauteur ill-advised,     The noblest crew upon the Blue     May be demoralized.     When his ungrateful country placed     Kind Reece upon half-pay,     Without much claim Sir Berkely came,     And took command one day.     Sir Berkely was a martinet -     A stern unyielding soul -     Who ruled his ship by dint of whip     And horrible black-hole.     A sailor who was overcome     From having freely dined,     And chanced to reel when at the wheel,     He instantly confined!     And tars who, when an action raged,     Appeared alarmed or scared,     And those below who wished to go,     He very seldom spared.     E'en he who smote his officer     For punishment was booked,     And mutinies upon the seas     He rarely overlooked.     In short, the happy Mantelpiece,     Where all had gone so well,     Beneath that fool Sir Berkely's rule     Became a floating hell.     When first Sir Berkely came aboard     He read a speech to all,     And told them how he'd made a vow     To act on duty's call.     Then William Lee, he up and said     (The Captain's coxswain he),     "We've heard the speech your honour's made,     And werry pleased we be.     "We won't pretend, my lad, as how     We're glad to lose our Reece;     Urbane, polite, he suited quite     The saucy Mantelpiece.     "But if your honour gives your mind     To study all our ways,     With dance and song we'll jog along     As in those happy days.     "I like your honour's looks, and feel     You're worthy of your sword.     Your hand, my lad I'm doosid glad     To welcome you aboard!"     Sir Berkely looked amazed, as though     He didn't understand.     "Don't shake your head," good William said,     "It is an honest hand.     "It's grasped a better hand than yourn -     Come, gov'nor, I insist!"     The Captain stared the coxswain glared -     The hand became a fist!     "Down, upstart!" said the hardy salt;     But Berkely dodged his aim,     And made him go in chains below:     The seamen murmured "Shame!"     He stopped all songs at 12 p.m.,     Stopped hornpipes when at sea,     And swore his cot (or bunk) should not     Be used by aught than he.     He never joined their daily mess,     Nor asked them to his own,     But chaffed in gay and social way     The officers alone.     His First Lieutenant, Peter, was     As useless as could be,     A helpless stick, and always sick     When there was any sea.     This First Lieutenant proved to be     His foster-sister May,     Who went to sea for love of he     In masculine array.     And when he learnt the curious fact,     Did he emotion show,     Or dry her tears or end her fears     By marrying her? No!     Or did he even try to soothe     This maiden in her teens?     Oh, no! instead he made her wed     The Sergeant of Marines!     Of course such Spartan discipline     Would make an angel fret;     They drew a lot, and William shot     This fearful martinet.     The Admiralty saw how ill     They'd treated Captain Reece;     He was restored once more aboard     The saucy Mantelpiece.