They watch us leaving harbour for the greatest game of all, And wonder if we're coming back across the greedy sea; They never know the fighting thrill or high adventure's call-- I rather think the women folk are better men than we. But I suspect they say of us as out to sea we go, In all our panoply of pride from Orkney to the Nore: "It keeps them quiet, we suppose--they like the work, we know-- And soon perhaps they'll tire and play some safer game than War." He went to sea on the long patrol, Away to the East from the Corton Shoal, But now he's overdue. He signalled me as he bore away (A flickering lamp through leaping spray, And darkness then till judgment day), "So long! Good luck to yo…
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