Here you will find thePoemHell's Pavementof poet John Masefield
?When I?m discharged at Liverpool `n? draws my bit o? pay, I won?t come to sea no more; I?ll court a pretty little lass `n? have a weddin? day, `N? settle somewhere down shore; I?ll never fare to sea again a-temptin? Davy Jones, A-hearkening to the cruel sharks a-hungerin? for my bones; I?ll run a blushin? dairy-farm or go a-crackin? stones, Or buy `n? keep a little liquor-store? &mdash So he said. They towed her in to Liverpool, we made the hooker fast, And the copper-bound official paid the crew, And Billy drew his money, but the money didn?t last, For he painted the alongshore blue, &mdash It was rum for Poll, and rum for Nan, and gin for Jolly Jack; He shipped a week later in the clothes upon his back; He had to pinch a little straw, he had to beg a sack To sleep on, when his watch was through, &mdash So he did.
