Captain Campbell's Poetry

[Penny Tray]

meg,

Meekan and the Lion have it - 2-1!

[Penny Tray]

THE VALENTINE

A little girl I know in green,
Received a charming valentine.
And oh! she wished so very hard
To find out who had sent the card.
So straightaway she formed a plan,
Each likely fellow's face to scan.
"For if," she said, "he loves me so,
By looking in his eyes I'll know."

So off she set upon the trail,
But soon she knew her scheme would fail,
For every fellow in her quest
Seemed more love-stricken than the rest.
"My gosh!" she said, "it cannot be
That every man's in love with me."
They were! And each one might have been
The lad who sent the Valentine.

[morag]

Penny, I'm scared you're gonny run oot o' these!

[Penny Tray]

Morag,

I think I've got 15 left, including my personal favourite, a 'funny', which I think I'll keep till last. And there's a couple of 'swooners' just for you. Then I'll maybe try and post his photo, again, just for you. He was a very handsome, distinguished looking man, with a hairline that wisnae fair!

[morag]

Och, P.T., ah'm a wummin o' a certain age, ye canny gie me the flutters like this!

[Penny Tray]

DONALD WEBSTER

Donald Webster's father took a mighty sudden notion
That he'd have a little journey to Moville,
And straightaway selected us to take him o'er the ocean,
Which was glassy-like and mirror-like and still.

Now he wished to have some company to make the time go faster,
So he did a thing so soldier-like and cool;
He snapped his thumb and finger at the pleadings of the Master,
And whisked away young Donald from the school.

They boarded us one evening, and we sailed away rejoicing,
And they kept a watch from Heysham to the Lune.
We tried to ease their feelings of the fears that they were voicing,
That they'd meet a young paimpero or typhoon.

'Twas early in the morning, and the sun was shining brightly,
And 'twas full of Vim and Vigour they did feel,
When Donald said, "I feel so fresh, so sailorlike and sprightly,
That I guess I'll take a spello at the wheel.

Well, he steered the "Ben" so truly that she never deviated,
Her course was true as any plummet's fall.
As a son of Father Neptune he was now initiated,
And he said, "I'll be a sailor after all."

But the seas came rolling wildly from the Western Ocean highway,
And the waters west of Innishowen Head.
Said young Donald, "It's the hedgerows and the hillside and the byeway
Are the scenes that now appeal to me instead."

But we soon were in the river, where the broom and gowanberry
And the honeysuckle scent the morning breeze,
And the tintinabulation of the bells of Londonderry
Sends its pealing down the river, through the trees.

When at last we reached the quayside, to be free from all the rolling,
And the pitchings, and the heaving, Don was glad;
But I know, because I saw them when the both of them were leaving,
That he was not half so happy as his Dad.

[Penny Tray]

WEBSTER'S VOYAGE

Now listen here to me while I compress
A voyage into a single page - or less,
To tell how Dr. Webster came to sea,
And journeyed down to Morecambe Bay - express.

And first I think it may be just as well
In style of old Omar Khayyam to tell
That at Moville he fished for salmon trout,
And got some - on a plate at the hotel.

One evening as we lay beside the quay,
With cargo all on board, it seemed to me,
The old "Lairdsben" was restless to be gone,
And chugging down the highways of the sea.

When lo! the shed door opened from the Strand,
To show the vet. with fishing rod in hand.
"Awake! my little ones!" he shouted out,
"And carry me across to Heysham sand.

"I leave old Ireland with but one regret,
I haven't caught a single minnow yet,
For though to sheep and cattle I'm a friend,
The fish all seem suspicious of a vet.

"But for a little while forget the lot,
And ponder on the fish I nearly caught.
Meanwhile the scent of tea is in the air,
Where is the steward, pray - and where the pot."

Again, through hazy smoke of cigarettes,
We yarned of hooks and flies and rods and nets,
Until he said, "It boots me to retire,
The sea is never very kind to vets."

And all that shortened night of middle June
We sailed along the pathway of the moon,
And wakened him in sight of Blackpool tower,
Halfway between the Walney and the Lune.

"My brothers," then he murmured, "it is clear
The sea is rough and sickness hovers near;
So run away, my children, for a while,
I'll linger for a little longer here."

But ah! we soon were up beyond the bay,
To regions where one Hoskins holds his sway,
And sadly did we watch our guest and friend
Pick up his fishing-rod and go away."

[Penny Tray]

HOSKEN OF PENZANCE

Do you know our Mr. Hosken; he's a Cornishman of note,
And he leads the 'Derry sailormen a dance,
For he comes aboard at meal times and he'll ram it down your throat
That the Universe is centred in Penzance.

He shouts along the quayside in a voice so grim and gruff,
My slogan is "The costs must not advance,"
And I'll manage this so nicely by the good old game of bluff,
That they taught me in my childhood at Penzance.

At night he seeks his armchair, with tobacco close at hand,
And exhibits all the symptoms of a trance,
While he dreams of all the beuties and the glories of the land
That gave birth to all the Pirates of Penzance.

You can tease him and insult him till you nearly scorch his ears,
And he'll only murmur softly, "Go to - France!"
But you'll hurt him and you'll drive him to the very point of tears
If you say a single word about Penzance.

I wonder what annoyed him when I gave to him the news
Than when God created all the world's expanse,
He gathered up the rubbish that he couldn't really use,
And he dumped the whole caboodle in Penzance.

When you listen to his stories you will very easy know
That our Charles is not the produce of a manse;
In fact he was the devil in those days of long ago
When he set the hearts a-flutter in Penzance.

I always feel so nervous when he walks around our decks;
He can tell a vessel's value at a glance,
For he learnt that down in Cornwall, where they used to pray for wrecks,
And their prayers were often answered in Penzance.

He say, "My very presence on your vessel is a prize
That the beauty of your table will enhance,
And believe me when I tell you that there aren't many flies
On a lad who's born and bred around Penzance.

And now he's looking forward to the day when he retires,
The which will give the younger men a chance,
And he'll settle down in Morecambe, which he very much admires,
Tho' he rants and raves about Penzance.

Now, pray forgive me, Charlie, for this libellous refrain,
Because of it don't look at me askance,
For you know how much we like you, and I'll say it once again,
We would sooner have you here than in Penzance."

[Penny Tray]

FAIR WHITING BAY

(Tune - "Bonnie Strathyre.")

There are many fair spots on the Firth o' the Clyde,
An' isles that are lapped by the flood o' the tide,
But it's aye tae auld Arran my memories stray,
Whaur the sun lichts the waters o' dear Whiting Bay.
Oh! it's up in Glen Ashdale my heart finds its ease,
By the side o' the burn in the shade of the trees;
An' I'll gie ye my share o' the cities sae gay,
If ye'll let me go back tae my ain Whiting Bay.

Oh! it's there in the shady wee path that I ken,
'Mid the heart-stirring beauties o' Ashdale's fair glen,
Whaur I'll walk wae my lassie the very first day
That I land frae the steamer at fair Whiting Bay.
And I'll tell her a story that never grows old,
As the sun dusts the hillside wae brushes o' gold,
An' we'll build a wee hoose on the side o' the brae,
An' we'll wander nae mair frae oor ain Whiting Bay.

[arrangazer]

This poetry its real and I write this in a hurry but need to re read it all again I just love it.

[arrangazer]

Thank you Penny Tray for posting this Gem of poetry we are so lucky.

[Penny Tray]

THE UNTIDY BED

The wintry wind made mournful hum
Around the Sanatorium,
And sent the showers of driving rain
A-drumming on the window pane.
Inside, the patients joked and laughed,
And cups of steaming egg-flip quaffed,
When suddenly I heard it said,
"This is the most untidy bed!"

Amazed, I straightened from a slouch,
And gazed around my spotless couch;
The cover was as it was made;
The sheet was just a foot displayed;
The blanket flung across my feet,
In scarlet folds, was trig and neat;
Yet round the ward the echo fled,
This is the most untidy bed.

Again one day ('twoud make one weep),
I just had settled down to sleep;
To dream of 'thralling eastern times,
And swaying palms, and blue lagoons,
When from a lovely sweet-voiced nurse
There came the oft-recurring curse,
"Oh! Campbell, lift your lazy head,
You've got a most untidy bed."

Exasperated, up I rose,
Yet naught, could see but faultless clothes.
The greatest feature was, I saw,
The absence of a single flaw.
"My gosh," said I, "now am I blind,
Or is there something wrong behind?
I guess the pillows at my head
Have caused this most untidy bed."

But no, the pillows showed up grand,
Tho', faith, they had a lot to stand;
What with all the fuss about them,
Nurses knocking stuffing out them;
In fact, my friends, it's made me old,
And maybe made me slightly bold.
Now, tell me, if a nurse, I wed,
Would she - er - growl about the bed.