The first lieutenant (Mr. Joseph Cook) was really the navigating officer of the Cabinet. - Roberts, M.H.R.

               'E's a tough ole salt,
                  With a 'ide well tanned,
               An' it ain't 'is fault
                  If the craft is manned
With a motley sort er crew.
                              Ya-hoo!
An' it is a mixed-up crew. 
But 'e's sailed, 'as 'e, on many a sea,
An' e's journeyed nigh an' fur;
'E's a tough ole, rough ole - not to mention gruff ole,
Bluff ole mar-i-ner.


               Fer 'e sailed among
                  The Labor Seas
               When 'e wus young;
                  An' since that 'e's
Been on all sorts o' craft -
                              Abaft
And 'fore the mast 'o craft.
Fer ther ain't no boat that's bin afloat
As 'e don't know ev'ry spar;
This sly ole, fly ole, mind-yer-weather-eye ole,
Spry ole deep-sea tar.


               Once in the ship
                  Re-pub-li-can
               'E took a trip
                  As a 'fore-mast man,
An' e transhipped in mid-sea,
                              Did 'e -
Went overside at sea.
Frum a Freetrade raft to a 'Tection craft
'E knows 'em stem to starn.
'E's ratin' as a great un at the art of navigatin',
An' 'e ain't got much to larn.


               To watch 'im skip,
                  On 's nimble feet,
               Frum ship to ship
                  Is a 'igh ole treat.
Fer 'e don't stop long on none.
                              'E's done
A fair, long cruise on none.
But 'e's larned a lot from the points 'e got
Since 'is cruisin' fust began,
This saine old smarty, sail-with-any-party,
Hearty aailor-man.


               Now 'e's signed fust mate
                  Fer another trip,
               Fer to naviprate
                  The Fusion ship;
An' a crazy craft she is.
                              Gee-whizz!
An' a frail ole tub she is.
With a crew o' sorts from all the ports,
An' a chance o' mutinee.
But 'e'll see the vessel thro' it, if there's any man kin do it,
Fer a hard ole salt is 'e.


               Fer the best o' mates
                  Is 'im thet's got
               Cer-tif-i-cates
                  From the 'ole darn lot,
When the stormy winds do blow.
                              Yo-ho!
When the windy storms do blow.
On a Tory tramp 'is callin' damp
'E 'as managed to pursoo.
Now 'e 'as to larn twin-screw ways - with 'er nose a-pointin' two ways,
An' a fair ole rorty crew.


               But 'is eye's glued tight
                  On the compass face,
               An' 'e'll make a fight
                  Fer the anch'rin' place,
Fer the Harbor o' Recess.
                              O, yes,
There's a harbor at Recess.
An' 'e'll do it yet, with luck, you bet,
Fer 'e' allus bin at sea.
An' there ain't no glummer salt, lightly-go-an'-comer salt,  
Rummer sort o'somer-salt than 'e.

"Den"
The Bulletin, 29 July 1909, p18