Fleet Poem

The fleet set sail from England’s shore

Those souls aboard would see no more

For many a year their native land

And most would never touch the hand

 Of them  were known before.

Adieu me mates from Billingsgate.

 So long yer big fat whore.

You was ever willing for me lucky shilling

To pluck yer knows what’s for.

 Yeah, I allwus knew what I shouldn’t do,

But life be tough and the road so rough

 While breaks  if you’re poor be few.

When you work half dead for a thruppence and bread

You can’t think nothing of a price on  yer head.

You look for a way to make life pay

So your missus and young’uns are fed

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It was me habit to hunt  squire’s rabbit 

And nick a wandering  hen

But me days got short when I were caught

And shoved  in this pigsty pen.

Where are me chums of yesteryear?

They be sitting easy, drinking malt beer.

While  I must to  piss chained  to the  rail,

While they be quaffing   strong, brown ale

***********************************.

Beware old matey. They’ll catch yz too…

 Then yer’ll be sailing the ocean blue,

 On maggotty pork and mealy stew,

Enough to make a  cockney spew.

I thank me stars I wasn’t topped.

Near to the act the hanging got stopped.

They give me life and a flogging instead.

I tell you true. I’d be better off dead.

**********************************

 Below dank decks on rotting sails,

I’m bound to  die in New South Wales.

Too late, mate. This be me fate.

 Got to eat what’s on me plate.

Seven years digging the roads,

Carrying rocks and back-breaking loads.

I tell ye young larrikins, mark me well.

If ye follow this track, you’ll end up in hell.

.      

                      ‘Ric Williams.