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| Meeting the Division |
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Up the Port gangway to
Division Two
Laden with franklyn, bell–bottoms and kit.
Stand to attention at the open door
Stunned by the holy sheen of hardwood decks
The stench of Ronuk, Brasso, clean–lean–mean.
Out on the gleaming wood a tall youth stands
In bells, gun–shirt, franklyn with twin red
hooks.
The Petty Officer stares at the New Cock.
"
Me name is Fermage. . . ." in a Scouser drawl.
"
Oi'm d'Petty Officer 'round 'ere, lar.
Any shit from youse, Oi'll kich yer 'ead in."
He stepped tight up and loured at the lad.
' "But if youse getcher finger out shipshape
Yez'll lairn t'be d'foinest koind o'man
D'koind of bloche t'sail d'seven seas.
Now getcher gear stowed neat joost over d'ere an'
den do fifty press–oops fer a start." |
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