Because beneath grey Northern skies
Some grey hulls heavo and fall,
The merchants sell their merchandise
All just as usual;
Our cargoes sail for man's content
The same as yesterday,
And war-risk 's down to 2 per cent.,
The underwriters say.
The clerks they sit with page and pen
And fill the desks a row,
Because outside of Cuxhaven
There's them to make it so:
We go to lunch, as natural,
From one o'clock till two,
Because outside of Kiel Canal
There's those that let us do.
We check and add our pass-books up
Or keep our weekly Boards
Unhampered by the works of Krupp
And all the Kaiser's swords;
At five o'clock we have our tea
And catch our usual bus—
So thank the Lord for those at sea
Who guard the likes of us.