Poem-Painting the Boat by 'Spur': 

 I must go down to the boat to work,

Down on the concrete walk,

And take my pots and brushes and gear—

Not sit on her rail to talk.

So I can’t wait for my breakfast,

Don’t fry the steak and chips,

For I must paint and scrape her,

The same as other ships.

Last time I painted the boat, lass,

The Prince of Wales passed thro’;

That’s how I decided her colours

As red and white and blue.

This time I’ll change the pattern,

I’ve thought it out in bed;

I’ll change the Prince’s colours

To blue and white and red.

The summer’s here and I ought to start,

Then I’ll know the work’s begun;

I shan’t want water to shave today,

I’ll shave when the job is done.

So help me on with my coat and vest

And hand me my cravat and cap,

Also I’ll wear my working boots,

And where did I put my strap?

What else do I want bar pots and gear?

My pipe and bacca to chew!

For my heart is set on painting

And a full-size boat to do.

Ay, here’s the green, but where’s the blue?

Where did that white paint go?

I’ll take some rags to wipe my hands

Whatever else I do.

Now where’s my file and putty knife?

And where’s that pot of oil?

Come, hand to me the painter—

What’s that? You think you see a spot

Upon the window pane?

Ay, bless my soul, it is a spot

I’m blowed! It looks like rain,

That’s done it! Serve the porridge, lass—

The steak and chips to follow,

We’ll put away the gear today,

It may be fine tomorrow.

Written in 1931 and previously published in

The Mumbles Press, June 1931

and  Mumbles in Verse, 2006