The eight bells toll the knell of parting day
The setting sun sinks slowly o'er the sea
The "Lucky Star" plods on her weary way
With sailors on the Poop-Deck, drinking tea.

As morning dawns across the heaving waves
The crew wake, yawning to another day -
And in the Galley, chief cook Eddie slaves
To get the breakfast slowly under way.

Day-workers straggle in, for morning tea
The yawning watch goes down below to kip
The second steward goes along to see
If any stores are left upon the ship.

The messman serves the hungry, shouting mob
With cereals and hot-cakes; bacon, eggs,
He wishes once again that for his job
He'd two more arms and two more pairs of legs.

The bored young Pantry-Boy washes the plates
He wishe that he'd never seen the sea
He'd like to be at home with all his mates
In "that dear land across the Irish Sea".

Now Pete the second cook sweats like a pig
As he bakes pies and bread and other gear.
He pauses from his work to take a swig
At Lukewarm cans of "Barclays Sparkling Beer".

The Galley-Boy straps up the pots and pans
And wishes he was home in Liverpool
He dumps the gash and all the empty cans
Then goes and paddles in the swimming pool

The second steward's name is "Ginger Bill"
He dishes out the tea with tender care
A "shaky" and a "thick" the tin will fill -
To use another, Geoffrey will not dare!

We sweat and toil and curse from day to day
The glaring sun comes slowly up and sets
The beer's all gone I hear and, by the way -
We've run completely out of cigarettes!

Plod on old "Lucky Star" and get us home
Get us home quickly before we slowly starve!"
Before the stores run out; let us not roam
Let's hurry to that blessed harbour of "LE HAVRE!

Historical note. This was written by an Assistant Steward
on the Esso "Lucky Star" in August 1956. I found this
poem amongst some old papers from my time on the
"Lucky Star". Sadly, I cannot remember his name.