Wapping: Conversation Piece Poem by Cicely Fox Smith

‘Lo, Ginger . . . ‘lo, Mike . . .
Where you been this long while
Since you an’ me was in the ol’
Mona’s Isle?
. . .
Oh, jus’ moseyin’ around like. . . .

Ever see anything o’ the ol’ ship? . . .
Aye, sailed in her myself las’ trip . . .
You did? . . . Aye. She’s gone, Fritz sunk ‘er;
Shoved a tin fish in ‘er starboard bunker
An’ down she went like a stone -
Quickest thing I ever known. . . .

Was there any more o’ the ol’ crowd in ‘er? . . . A few -
You’d remember the mate, ol’ Mister Bell? . . .
Aye, I do. . . .
Well -
An’ all them little birds he used to keep
(Nice little singers they was, it was a treat to ‘ear ‘em
When you was anywhere near ‘em) -
Remember ‘ow the Ol’ Man used to raise merry ‘ell
‘Cause they sung that loud they sp’iled ‘is sleep? . . .
Aye . . . Well, ‘e’s gone too. . . .

Well, reckon I’ll be pushin’ along, Mike, Tootle-oo. . . .
Me too . . .
Time I was lookin’ out for another berth . . . Same ‘ere
Ain’t goin’ to stop at ‘ome to please Jerry, like . . . ?
No bloomin’ fear . . .
Well s’ long Ginger . . . S’ long Mike . . .