Before Trafalgar

I was sat in a Tavern in Pompey Town,

Sipping a tipple of rum,

When I watched a Jack make an axe attack,

Chop off his finger and thumb!

 

I couldn’t believe the blood that flowed

From the cut of that rusty blade,

But the barmaid Flo, said ‘You’ve done it, Joe,

Now look at the mess you’ve made!’

 

She cleaned it up with a swill of ale,

Walked off with the finger and thumb,

‘I’ll nail these up on the balustrade

With the rest that have been as dumb.’

 

But Joe sang out when he’d had a drink

‘It’s better than being a tar!

I spent three years, under the lash

On His Majesty’s Man o’ War.’

 

‘They ‘pressed me when I was still a kid

And treated me like a dog,

I suffered scurvy and couldn’t work,

The answer to that, was flog.’

 

‘They flogged me around the Southern Cape,

They flogged me a-ship and ashore,

Whenever I thought that I might escape

They dragged me onboard for more.’

 

‘And Cap’n Foggett’s abroad tonight

With his cut-throat parcel of rogues,

Impressing the able-bodied men,

They’re lining them up in droves.’

 

‘For Nelson’s lying abaft the lee

With barely a half a crew,

He needs more men for the ‘Victory’,

And that means me and you!’

 

‘In every tavern they’re moving in,

In every alley and quay,

At first they offer the King’s shilling,

To war with the enemy.’

 

‘But the Frenchies rake with the carronade

That will rip the flesh from your bones,

And the decks run red from the men who bled

Impressed from their wives and homes.’

 

‘They say he sails on the tide tonight

So they’re doing a quick Hot Press,

Even a gen’lman walking late

Won’t meet with their gentleness.’

 

‘A cudgel whack on a squire’s head

Then dragged to the bilges, free,

They’ll never know ‘til they all wake up

That they’re headed on out to sea.’

 

‘That Nelson’s got but a single arm,

He’s got but a single eye,

If that’s not enough to be alarmed

By God, then I wonder why!’

 

The Press Gang came to the Tavern door

But couldn’t come on inside,

They tried to sell me a Man o’ War

But Joe had made me decide.

 

I took a gulp of Jamaica Rum

And I steeled myself to the task,

‘The Press are waiting outside,’ I cried,

‘Just hand me that rusty axe!’

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Laura Lynn]

what an awesome write, you are the one who has a lot of life memories, stories to tell us I believe,

the opening stanza stands to contrast w/ "Where is Thumbkin?" not a pretty picture over all all the veterans loosing their arms and legs,

I tried to explain to my son that if he saw a real weapon as opposed to the toy grenade they had in the dollar store, he wouldn't like it, but I fear there is no hope, or he doesn't understand, I can't say that I really do either, he's going to need some training about it later in life and it is a premonition,

[Marie]

Boys want to play with weapons, and I think it's something they're born with. I believe it has to do with survival of the race.

[Laura Lynn]

thanks, well I feel better about taking him to the dollar store, but I haven't any experience with weaponry, and I feel that is a lack on my part

[Marie]

It's not a lack. Woman aren't ade that way. When I was growing up my father kept a loaded rifle in an open closet. H had three daughters, and not one of us ever touched it. My mother said that if we'd been boys, the rifle would have had to be locked up, and even then a boy would have found out a way to get to it.

[Tony Jordan]

Those must have been such very hard times. I doubt if I'd made a good sailor - I like my feet firmly on terra-firma DLP.
This is such a tale and told so expertly that the reader is transported back.
I had to google naval terms for 'tar' and in doing so found an interesting site of terms.
So it is with my newfound knowledge I can say you'll never be a poetical "tail-end Charlie".
Great piece Sir. Superb plot. Thrilling twist.

[Barbz]

This I see with clarity, he bled all wrecked and sore. There was no way, flesh cut away, he would not go to war. There was a day, he went their way. it wasn't very pretty. The type of torture he endured, deserved wives tears and pity. Of course, yours was of days of yore, my memory brings me tears, as I saw a lad, avoid the draft, by puncturing both his ears. This is a true story....I have No need for Glory!! I am better for your gift D.L Paget....Barbz

[ANTO]

This is brilliant David. I laughed. It looks on paper like it wants to be a sea-shanty-Irish jig mix but it rhymes lovely in the mind. I could imagine doing the hornpipe singing this.
So many excellent images. And effortless flow. Im more of a fan than I was before.

[Marie]

I guess that's one way to get fighting men.


If Joe was stupid enough to cut off his finger and thumb with a rusty axe (I'll bet he hadn't kept up with his tetanus shots either), he probably did plenty of dumb things to get himself flogged--not that I'm in favour of that. But a lot of these men were the lowest of the low. It was a bad time all around.

[Valentine]

This is one of your best and it comes across like something I read way back in History class. I really like the story this one tells and the ending is terrific.. thank you...Kathie

[MomzillaNC]

"tipple of rum" An amusing turn of phrase that's new to me. What a gruesome way to beat the draft!