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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 10, Issue 5 (August 1, 1935)

Under Way

Under Way.

There's monotony and boredom in the
salt South seas
When we cannot get a slant of wind
to ease the sails away,
But there's thrill and joy and freedom
in a nine knot breeze
When the ozone whips the wave tops
off and tightens ev'ry stay.
Creepy things and barnacles and grey-green
Hang below the plimsoll line in waters
deep and calm,
But brisk and bustling breezes from
the snow-bound South
Come rippling and come ramping with
a cool and cleanly balm.
So shake out all the tops'ls and the
tweens'ls set;
Rig up a forrard spinnaker to lift
away the bows.
We'll run our little cargo into Auckland
We'll clap on all the canvas that a
schooner-rig allows.
We will never lie a-gasping ‘neath the
main mast more,
A-praying for the cap o' wind that
never seems to come;
We are heading hurly-burly for our
old home shore,
We are hurly-burly flying for our
island home.
Then march around the capstan with
a sturdy tramp
The halliard's on the winding-drum,
there's whistling in the shrouds
As we haul, and sing our chanties,
while we heave and stamp
The good old ship is scudding with the
big black clouds.

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