The Mate

I’ve rarely seen a man who could ‘ave stood ‘is ground so long
No matter what the odds or where the fight.
I’ve never seen another who could prove ‘e wasn’t wrong
When ev’ry one could prove ‘e wasn’t right.
I’ve sailed with many bastards but I’ve never met the man
Whose discipline was ‘arder than the one this feller gave.
Yet I’ve seen no other person, From ‘elsinki to Taipan,
Whose compassion could be greater, or whose love could be so brave.

And we loved ‘im back for the strengths that ‘e could show
Which kept us on an even keel and made a mob a crew.
Yet we loathed him too for the lengths that ‘e would go
To ‘elp a worthless failure start anew.


There wasn’t any one of us could say we didn’t owe
At least a debt of gratitude or two.
For some it was ‘ard money, but there’s no one else would know,
‘E never told a soul of what ‘e’d do.
And I think there’s not a one of us ‘e ‘asn’t carried back
From drinkin’ way too much in places we should not ‘ave been.
Yet all of us ‘e’s threatened with deductions, or the sack.
‘E can be a saint or demon, or whatever in between.

And there’s times I know when all of us could kill
The bastard that’s been workin’ each beyond ‘is mortal bound.
Then there’s storms we’ve shared when just ‘is stubborn will
Was all that bought us homeward hale and sound.


So when each hell-sent trip is done and all the lads ashore
Are suppin’ up a pint to say good-bye.
We, ev’ry single one of us, say’s we’ll be back no more
We’ll give another lively’ood a try.
Yet when the leave is all but up with money gettin’ low
We wander back to where we said we wouldn’t go again,
And sign back on the same old line, as if we didn’t know
The ‘ardships we was choosin’, all the toil, the fights, the pain.

And the reason why it ‘appens ev’ry trip
That brings us back to face the life we know we’re goin’ to ‘ate?
It ain’t the pay, the comp’ny, nor the ship.
It’s that bastard that we all respect: The Mate.

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