THE
KID
by
Tom Kilfoy (1914)
There's a battleship, that's swinging to her anchors somewhere North,
There's a sailor's "kit" at auction. You'll agree.
They'll fetch ten times their value, just for memory of the "Kid,"
Who was working out his penance, in that ship upon the sea.
He was ragged, he was dirty, and he'd not been overfed,
But he didn't fear the judge nor yet the cop.
He'd been pinched for playing banker with some others of his tribe,
And his legs were just too short to beat the "slop."
The judge gave him the option. He hadn't much to lose.
"The Prison or the Navy? you can choose."
So the Kid, he chose the Navy. Jail was not for such as he,
And he went to work his penance, in a ship upon the sea.
He was washed and fed, and clobbered, and they made the beggar work,
But he slogged and worried through it, with a smile.
With the hose the jaunty froze him, and he was kicked from here
to there,
And his life was simply hell just for a while.
Yet he stuck it like a good 'un; he was never known to grouse,
And he learned to fence, and fight, and wash his neck;
And he kept his record cleaner than the sturdiest A.B.
He was working out his penance in that ship upon the sea.
They sent him out to China, where he studied Pagan ways,
And he learned a lot of things he didn't know.
Still he always had a feeling of respect for woman-kind,
And he rung down' in their presence to dead slow.
He slugged a crowd of Dagos once for bullying a girl.
They knifed him till his soul was all but free.
In the sick bay he was mended, tho' he's not the man he was;
But, he's working out his penance, in that ship upon the sea.
When, one night, the storm was raging, all the hatches battened
down.
Above the crash of waves, and winds that roared,
Rang the Bosun's "pipe" and order, rapped out, just like a knife
Hands! Man the Whaler! Quick! Man overboard!!
We'd scarce obeyed the order, when The Kid shot o'er the side.
He'd a line around his waist, his arms were free.
He meant to save that jaunty, tho' 'twas one he hated most.
He was working out his penance, in that ship upon the sea.
The lifebelt flared, we watched it and we paid the line out slow.
The searchlights found him, fighting inch by inch;
And we cheered and yelled, like blazes, when we saw he'd got his
man,
And we rove a stronger line on to the winch.
The whaler fought towards them. He was very nearly done.
The boys all grabbed to save him, just as he
Pushed the jaunty to our gun'nle; then he chucked it up, Poor Kid.
He'd worked out all his penance in that ship upon the sea.
"There's a battleship that's swinging to her anchors somewhere North.
There's a sailor's kit at auction. You'll agree.
They'll fetch twenty times their value just for memory of The Kid
Who was working out his penance in that ship upon the sea.
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