# Poetry in Motion



## A.D.FROST (Sep 1, 2008)

Heroes and Villains
View attachment 27515
(Cloud)


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## Basil (Feb 4, 2006)

I do recollect a 3/O who used to get a bit cross when I answered the engine room/bridge telephone: "Nerve centre!" 

Later on, as an aircraft pilot, it was great just to have to write the defects in the log and someone else had to fix them - but their efforts WERE appreciated.


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## Barrie Youde (May 29, 2006)

“The man behind the throttle is the man who drives the ship.”
So said the engineer, with his Woodbine on his lip,
A-slaving on his foot-plate in his hell-hole down below,
While giving of his best to make the whole contraption go.

The galley-slave of modern day, a-straining at his oar,
It’s clear the modern engineer could really do no more:
Nor make a greater contribution to the venture whole.
But does he really drive? Does that quite rightly speak his role?

Our ship is but an entity. It’s more than mere tin can.
It serves a purpose in the interests of the greater plan:
To go from A to B and take both passengers and freight.
To nominate the driver – should the nomination wait?

What about the Sparkie, who takes signals from the shore?
The Orders? Designations? Maintains contact? Does much more?
Without communication who knows where our ship should go?
The driver? I’m not yet quite sure. Perhaps there’s more to know.

Our ship is manned by people who have every need to live
In some condition civilised. Who will conditions give?
Our Stewards take good care of all the people here on board.
To say he’s better than the rest, no sailor can afford.

An army marches on its stomach. All men need to eat.
To feed a whole ship’s company is, frankly, no mean feat.
To state, then, who might drive the ship, no man can overlook,
The vital role of but one man. Gentlemen - The Cook!

And what about the Able Seaman – steering by the wheel,
Or look-out at the fo’c’sle head- or chipping rusty steel?
Such men maintain the floating can – ensuring she won’t sink.
D’ you think that they might drive her, just a little bit, d’you think?

We cannot mention who’s in charge – (Sole master after God),
For this would spoil the whole illusion. (May we never plod.)
But is it really right then, that the driver cannot see,
Ahead? Or where we’re going to? If so, please God help me!


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## Burntisland Ship Yard (Aug 2, 2008)

Some where in the loft, I have a few more poems, must dig them out, I am sure if any of the guys have other poems they will post on this string....


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## ninabaker (May 4, 2012)

I dont know now where I got this from, possibly copied out of the old Apprentices Newsletters that used to lie around on BP ships (I was in BP 1972-77). Nor have I recorded in my notebook of the time, who it was by, so perhaps Anon?

Call the Mate

If the steaming lights go out, call the mate
If your latitude's in doubt, call the mate
If the wind begins to howl
If the sailors start to growl
If the whistle line gets foul, call the mate.

If your're coming into port, call the mate
If the paint is running short, call the mate
If the cargo starts to shift
If a lifeboat goes adrift
If the fog begins to lift, call the mate.

If you need the crew on deck, call the mate
If the gangplank is a wreck, call the mate
And that's why the poor old chap
Never gets a decent nap
Thank the lord I'm just an App and NOT the mate.


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## Varley (Oct 1, 2006)

If a steaming light goes out do call the mate,
But if more than one is black you can let him sleep in late,
For when it's multitudes unlit, better see if Lecky's 'fit'.

But before you dial his number please at the stern do have a gander,
For if the wake there's not a flow then he'll already be below.
You then hoist two lanterns, red, and get the Old Man out of bed.


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## Scotch Boiler (Sep 18, 2011)

And for engineers the most appropriate poem is still "MacAndrews Hymn" by Rudyard Kipling.


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## Varley (Oct 1, 2006)

I like to Kipl too.


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## Barrie Youde (May 29, 2006)

Mc ANDREW'S COUSIN

McAndrew had a cousin. And the cousin was McPhail.
He also was an engineer, though on a different scale.
Not for him the headache of an ocean passage plan.
His furthest passage rarely went beyond the Isle of Man.
He knew no glutton-passengers, demanding drink and sun,
Because, on board his splendid ship , the passengers were none.

McPhail was Chief of Engineers and engineering staff
On board his well-found vessel. Thus, he had no cause to laugh.
Responsibility was his and heavily it lay:
Particularly so that he could justify his pay.
He was a most important man. This was quite clear to him.
He knew his place. As, likewise, did the deck-boy, Sunny Jim.

McPhail had everything in hand, as engineers should.
Perfection was his watchword, as a paragon of good.
Spotless was his engine-room. All things were ***** and span.
He was the very essence of an engineering man.
And, so it seemed that, at this point, McPhail had got things licked.
All things were under his control. His men were all hand-picked.
What could go wrong on such a ship, that man could not enjoy?
What finer vessel was there launched since Helen ruled at Troy?

Alas, there was another bloke. A man upon the bridge.
He called the shots. He poured the tots. (No ice – and neither fridge.)
Enter here, MacFarlane now, to mar the happy scene
And spoil the day of yon McPhail, the engineer marine.
MacFarlane was the master, that is, solely after God.
He gave no hoot nor staked the route where Saints before had trod.
He, likewise, with McPhail, had pride in all that he contrived.
The wonder then (it has to be), that either one survived.

How did they do it? How was it that either one could live?
Step forward, Doug, Chief Officer, the Chief Executive.
McPhail knew well McAndrew (and McAndrew he had read),
He prayed, devoutly, nightly, by the bunk-light at his bed,
“MacFarlane, Para Handy, You will be the death o’ me,
If I stay in this vessel which you shunt around the sea.
I do not trust you. Not one inch. Yet, I’m stuck here below.
Whatever you are doing, sure as death, I do not know.”

“Forbye”, said Para Handy, “Sure, I’ve never shovelled coal.
And in your donkey-engine thing, my trust in you is whole.
But when it comes to navigation, please, what can you see?
Attention to the fires below allows no sight of sea.
McPhail, you are my right hand man: you cause the screw to turn:
Without your help, there is no doubt, the ship just could not earn:
And both of us would be ashore, devoid of bread and crust.
McPhail, I do not love you: But rely on you I must.”
BY- 24.06.2012


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## orcades (Jan 4, 2008)

I oft times wonder if R, Kiplin was an engineer, for he surely knew steam engines, at least he knew the Up and Downers, and knew their song, particularly on the lonely 12 to 4 watches when heading for the channel. Mc Andrews hyme describes it to perfection.


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## OliverD (Aug 30, 2011)

Scotch Boiler said:


> And for engineers the most appropriate poem is still "MacAndrews Hymn" by Rudyard Kipling.


Thank you for posting this; I never (shame on me) read much of Kipling's work, and certainly not this. I Googled it and read the poem twice. It is easy to picture the man and his engine, and all with which he is surrounded. 
"For I ha' lived an' I ha' worked. All thanks to Thee, Most High!"

Oliver


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## Barrie Youde (May 29, 2006)

Kipling was a genius.

His critics often observe that he wrote verse rather than poetry, and they are probably right.

My own favourite work of his is "If". It should be learned by heart by every youth.

"If you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance run."


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## Varley (Oct 1, 2006)

I am not so sure the 'scots' is not overdone but MacAndrew probably fixed the equally overdone conception that all ships' engineers are Scots. Try:

The Conversion of St Wilfrid - Eddi’s Service 

Don't forget his many short stories as a sample:

The Miracle of Purun Bhagat


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## Duncan112 (Dec 28, 2006)

Thanks Barrie, love it, and it deserves a wider audience


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