The Chesapeake and the Shannon by Anonymous

The Chesapeake and the Shannon

Now the Chesapeake so bold, sailed from Boston, we've been told,
For to take the British frigate neat and handy, O!
The people of the port all came out to see the sport,
And the bands were playing Yankee doodle dandy, O!

The British frigate's name, which for the purpose came
To cool the Yankee courage neat and handy, O!
Was the Shannon, Captain Broke, all her men were hearts of oak,
And in fighting, was allowed to be the dandy, O!

The fight had scarce begun when they flinched from their guns
which at first they started workin' neat and handy, O!
Then brave Broke he waved his sword, crying, "Now, my lads, aboard,"
And we'll stop their playing Yankee doodle dandy, O!

They no sooner heard the word, when they quickly jump'd aboard,
And hauled down the Yankee colors neat and handy, O!
Notwithstanding all their brag, now the glorious British flag
At the Yankee mizzen-peak was quite the dandy, O!

Here's a health brave Broke to you, to your officers and crew,
Who aboard the Shannon frigate fought so handy, O!
And may it ever prove that in fighting, and in love,
The British tar will ever be the dandy, O!
--Broadsheet ballad by Unknown Author

I had just finished listening to The Fortune of War by Patrick O'Brian, when I heard this song come on my random shuffle. It took me only a moment or two to realize that it was talking about the very battle I'd just heard about in the story. The British Navy had suffered a string of defeats against the large new American frigates, and Captain Broke of the Shannon, after blockading Boston, burning captured merchant vessels rather than making prize of them to keep his crew intact, and nearly running out of supplies, was forced to make the decision to return to Halifax for supplies. He knew that when he returned, the Chesapeake would have left Boston harbor, and would be free to prey on more British vessels, so he sent in a letter with some prisoners challenging Lawrence, the American Captain to a fair fight. The Chesapeake came out of the harbor before the letter reached it with the same idea in mind. The people in town went out onto the headland to watch. The battle was fierce, but the Shannon was dismasted, and her captain was mortally wounded. His last words were, "Don't give up the ship!" When the British boarded, however, they were forced to strike their colors.

I find that I am a bit conflicted when I hear stories like this. I like for the British navy to win battles, since in the novels I read, they're generally the heroes. At the same time, I am an American, and like to hear about American bravery and Victory. I imagine that many of the people in the colonies during the Revolutionary War and War of 1812 were similarly conflicted.

If you're interested in the tune, you can hear it here.

A Red Red Rose by Robert Burns

A Red Red Rose

O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it ware ten thousand mile.
-- Robert Burns

I sure am lucky to have somebody who loves me. I like poems that just talk about how in love the poet is. I also like poems that are written in dialect so you get funny lines like "till a' the seas gang dry" and you get to pretend like there's nothing silly at all about talking like that. Those crazy Scots.

The Man in the Moon Came Down Too Soon by JRR Tolkien

The Man in the Moon Came Down Too Soon

Hey, Diddle, Diddle
Hey, diddle, diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon.
The little dog laughed
To see such sport,
And the dish ran away with the spoon.


The Man in the Moon Came Down Too Soon
There is an inn, a merry old inn
Beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
One night to drink his fill.

The ostler has a tipsy cat
That plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he saws his bow
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
Now sawing in the middle.


The landlord keeps a little dog
That is mighty fond of jokes;
When there's good cheer among the guests,
He cocks an ear at all the jests
And laughs until he chokes.

They also keep a hornéd cow
As proud as any queen;
But music turns her head like ale,
And makes her wave her tufted tail
And dance upon the green.


And O! the rows of silver dishes
And the store of silver spoons!
For Sunday there's a special pair,
And these they polish up with care
on Saturday afternoons.

The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
And the cat began to wail;
A dish and a spoon on the table danced,
The cow in the garden madly pranced
And the little dog chased his tail.


The Man in the Moon took another mug,
And then rolled beneath his chair;
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale,
And dawn was in the air.

Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:
'The white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and champ their silver bits;
But their master's been and drowned his wits,
And the Sun'll be rising soon!'


So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
A jig that would wake the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
'It's after three!' he said.

They rolled the Man slowly up the hill
And bundled him into the Moon,
While his horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow came capering like a deer,
And a dish ran up with the spoon.


Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
The dog began to roar,
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
The guests all bounded from their beds
And danced upon the floor.

With a ping and a pang the fiddle-strings broke!
The cow jumped over the Moon,
And the little dog laughed to see such fun,
And the Saturday dish went off at a run
With the silver Sunday spoon.

The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
As the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her surprise
They all went back to bed!
--JRR Tolkien

I skipped doing a long poem yesterday, so I thought I'd do both a long and short today. I love the very idea of Tolkien's poem: this bit of nonsense is so pervasive in our world, it must have meant something at some time, so why not imagine what it might have been? It's kind of what he did for the whole Lord of the Rings series. Anyway, I also think it's just plain fun.

In Flanders Fields by John McCrae

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
--John McCrae

Here's another Memorial Day poem--probably the most famous and often read. It tells about the utter waste war seems to be from one perspective, and yet acknowledges that it has to go on sometimes. It's hard to do both, even though many people have these conflicting emotions about it.

On a happier note, it's my birthday, so everybody sing happy birthday to me!

Navy Hymn by William Whiting

Navy Hymn

Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea!

O Christ! Whose voice the waters heard
And hushed their raging at Thy word,
Who walked'st on the foaming deep,
And calm amidst its rage didst sleep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea!

Most Holy Spirit! Who didst brood
Upon the chaos dark and rude,
And bid its angry tumult cease,
And give, for wild confusion, peace;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea!

O Trinity of love and power!
Our brethren shield in danger's hour;
From rock and tempest, fire and foe,
Protect them wheresoe'er they go;
Thus evermore shall rise to Thee
Glad hymns of praise from land and sea.
--William Whiting

Karen's alternate version:
Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea!

O master at whose wild command
The earth moves forth with splendor grand
O'er plains and rocky cliffs so steep
We pray thee guard thy wandering sheep.
Oh hear our plea, hold in thy hand
All those in peril on the land.

Thou keeper of the souls of men
We ask they blessed hand to lend
Us strength for days of toil and strife
And bring on us immortal life
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea!

O Spirit, whom the father sent,
To spread abroad the firmament:
O Wind of Heaven, by Thy might
Save all who dare the eagle’s flight,
And keep them by the watchful care
From every peril in the air.

Almighty ruler of the all
Whose power extends to great and small,
Who guides the stars with steadfast law,
Whose least creation fills with awe—
Oh grant Thy mercy and Thy grace
To those who venture into space.

Almighty God of Love and Power,
Our brethren shield in danger’s hour;
From rock and tempest, fire and foe,
Protect them wheresoe’er they go;
Thus evermore shall rise to Thee
Glad praise from space, air, land and sea.

Here is a poem for Memorial Day. We'll be praying for all those who are out there fighting for cause they believe in. We'll be praying that peace can be restored and that they can get home safely.

The original version of this song, shown first, is known as the Navy Hymn for obvious reasons. There are a gazillion alternate verses for every part of the military and also specific situations. The Wikipedia article has a smattering of them, but it is by no means definitive. I've cobbled together my favorite verses from various sources--surprised that none of the versions I have in my music collection matches my ideal--I was sure that I was remembering it, and it seems it's just a mish-mash of other versions. Just to be clear, I am not claiming that I wrote any of those verses, but I can't find attributions for any of them except the space verse which was written by Robert Heinlein, and is a beautiful addition. If you want to hear the tune, you can click here.

Trees by Joyce Kilmer

Trees

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
--Joyce Kilmer

Trees
I think that I shall never see
A billboard lovely as a tree;
Indeed, unless the billboards fall
I'll never see a tree at all
--Ogden Nash

Sorry I forgot to post yesterday--life is getting hectic with the move. Here's Saturday's poem.
Many poems have been gifted with humorous responses by other authors. Sometimes it's parody, sometimes homage, sometimes response, sometimes rebuttal. Here's one of my favorites. The original is a lovely bit of Nature poetry. I like the way he makes the tree seem conscious, and yet not altogether human - almost like he's writing about an ent or dryad. The second is the sort of witty rhyme that we have come to expect from Ogden Nash. I wonder if his poems are so often short because it takes him forever to find just the right way of saying it, or if a quick rhyme or two pops into his head and he just whips it off and is done with it.

When You Thought I Wasn’t Looking by Mary Rita Schilke Korzan

When You Thought I Wasn’t Looking

When you thought I wasn’t looking
You hung my first painting on the refrigerator
And I wanted to paint another.

When you thought I wasn’t looking
You fed a stray cat
And I thought it was good to be kind to animals.

When you thought I wasn’t looking
You baked a birthday cake just for me
And I knew that little things were special things.

When you thought I wasn’t looking
You said a prayer
And I believed there was a God that I could always talk to.

When you thought I wasn’t looking
You kissed me good-night
And I felt loved.

When you thought I wasn’t looking
I saw tears come from your eyes
And I learned that sometimes things hurt—
But that it's alright to cry.

When you thought I wasn’t looking
You smiled
And it made me want to look that pretty too.

When you thought I wasn’t looking
You cared
And I wanted to be everything I could be.

When you thought I wasn’t looking—
I looked . . .
And wanted to say thanks
For all those things you did
When you thought I wasn’t looking.
--Mary Rita Schilke Korzan

Today's post is brought to you by Daddy:

Here is a poem that sums up Mom pretty well. More than two decades ago, a young woman soon to graduate from college and get married reflected on her life and was filled with gratitude for the goodness and example of her mother. After praying for divine assistance to express in words her love and appreciation, Mary Rita Schilke Korzan wrote a poem titled “When You Thought I Wasn’t Looking” and dedicated it to her mother. Years later she was surprised to find the poem in a book with the words “author unknown.” Mary eventually unraveled the mystery of lost authorship, driven by a desire that those who read the poem would know the person who inspired it—her mother.
Randy

I want to say that I certainly learned a lot of lessons like this from both my parents. Thanks Mom and Dad!