Post by Administrator on Oct 8, 2016 13:35:43 GMT
SMOKY JOE`S
Now the British Merchant seaman - he works so hard at sea ,
In times of rest he likes a drink -well that’s okay with me,
I remember one occasion down at Smoky Joe’s
It’s on the Bluff at Durban as many a sailor knows.
Like the staithes at Dunston, there’s miles of railroad track
Beyond a coaling station, stood a collier’s drinking shack
A wood shebeen with oil drums on a bed of cindered coke,
We savoured native brandy - it was known as old ‘cape smoke’
I know we had a good day, as we drank and swung the lamp
Alas our poor old Bos’un - he flaked out like a tramp,
My mate and I took charge of him, now he’d spent his bucks
By one leg each we tugged him home, beneath the railroad trucks
The Bos`un now was sixty eight but still as hard as nails
He never did complain as his head banged on the rails
We did our best to get him back - I suppose we were his keepers,
-He was mainly horizontal as he bumped along the sleepers
Our next days work was heavy, after boozing at the bar
Lifting down the hatch boards and coating them with tar
The temperature was ninety, but the `Buffer` pressed his men
(He went to sea in sailing ships at the age of ten)
He toiled as hard as anyone and earned our great respect,
For all the contact with his skull - he showed no ill effect
Ignoring cuts and bruises and without a hint of pain
Evening came - he had a shave then went ashore again.
We went and tapped the steward and drew another sub,
Once more we climbed the timbers to Smoky Joes rough pub
This time we hauled the old man back-as careful as we could,
We dragged him by his arms - so his feet bounced on the wood!