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The Admiral BY HERBERT PUTNAM |
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While all you lazy people take your ease, I sail The seas. But—let me whisper—though I seem so bold | |
To many lands through many seas I sail And nev- Er quail, Nor, even when the ship goes up and down, So much As frown, For I ’ve been middy, captain, commodore, And now Much more— An admiral! with cocked hat and epaulet. They call Me “Vet,” But—let me whisper—though I seem so bold |
A fleet of ships, not one, you understand, Is my Command; All ready, when I buckle on my sword And give The word, To battle with the foe, however strong, And right The wrong: But—let me whisper—though I seem so bold |
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For that ’s the only battle I shall fight, The one For Right, And never shall my ships or cannon seek To hurt The weak. But when our foes my pennant once espy And know It ’s I, They hurry up their sails and scud away, Nor wait The fray. So both my sword and pistol never cease To make For peace, And dreadful to you as they now appear, You need Not fear. With this long glass I readily can see Where dan- Gers be; The compass tells me where we ought to go To find The foe. But—let me whisper—though I seem so bold And am So old, There are times when I really am perplexed And e- Ven vexed; Then, when I want to do the truly right With all My might, I ask the compass that is always true:— Mama, That ’s you! |
And always, when I pass by in my ship, The col- Ors dip; And often, when I go from ship to shore, The can- Non roar. But—let me whisper—though I seem so bold |
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