The Plaint Of The Stoker (1899)
Ay ! sing the admiral's praises,
An' sing o' the captain, too ;
An' swill yer wine to the staff an' line
An' all o' the gun-deck crew ,
But who's to sing o' the stoker,
Er tell o' the part he bears ;
Fer he lives in a hole, an' he dies in a hole,
An' who the devil cares.
So strip to the waist, my maties,
An' work as the stoker works,
Fer fast er slow, the man below
Is never the man who shirks ;
An' the first to drop, we'll lay him
Soft side o' the fire-room stairs,
Fer he lives in a hole, an' he dies in a hole,
An' who the devil cares ?
There's a chase in sight, my maties,
An' " Steam ! More steam !" 's the cry ;
So bend your backs to the grating racks
An' work till it's time to die ;
Fer the ship must do her duty
In pride o' the flag she wear--
Tho' we live in a hole, an' we die in a hole,
An' who the devil cares ?
Come ! strike up a song, my maties,
An' mock at the death-white heat ;
Fer the fight's begun, an' lost or won,
The heart o' the ship must beat !
Fer them at the guns there's glory
That never a stoker shares--
Fer we live in a hole, and we die in a hole,
An' who the devil cares ?
So on with the dance, my maties,
Tho' you sob an' gasp fer breath ;
Fer the demon coal is black o' soul,
An' he drives his slaves to death !
But we'll sink or swim together,
An' it's little we'll get o' prayers--
Fer we live in a hole, an' we die in a hole,
An' who the devil cares ?
KARL KENNETT.
Notes
From the Wagga NSW newspaper the Worker Saturday 23 December 1899, p. 4.