Classic Poem

Thus said the rushing raven,
Unto his hungry mate:
‘Ho! gossip! for Bude Haven:
There be corpses six or eight.
Cawk! cawk! the crew and skipper
Are wallowing in the sea:
So there's a savoury supper
For my old dame and me.’

‘Cawk! gaffer! thou art dreaming,
The shore hath wreckers bold;
Would rend the yelling seamen,
From the clutching billows' hold.
Cawk! cawk! they'd bound for booty
Into the dragon's den:
And shout, for “death or duty,”
If the prey were drowning men.’

Loud laughed the listening surges,
At the guess our grandame gave:
You might call them Boanerges,
From the thunder of their wave.
And mockery followed after
The sea-bird's jeering brood:
That filled the skies with laughter,
From Lundy Light to Bude.

‘Cawk! cawk!’ then said the raven,
‘I am fourscore years and ten:
Yet never in Bude Haven,
Did I croak for rescued men.—
They will save the Captain's girdle,
And shirt, if shirt there be:
But leave their blood to curdle,
For my old dame and me.’

So said the rushing raven,
Unto his hungry mate:
‘Ho! gossip! for Bude Haven:
There be corpses six or eight.
Cawk! cawk! the crew and skipper
Are wallowing in the sea:
O what a savoury supper
For my old dame and me.’