One thing about it--it rhymes with drink! Ha, ha, ha! Drink, don't think! Drink, don't think! Drink, don't think! [_A whole chorus of voices has taken up this refrain, stamping on the floor, pounding on the benches with fists._] YANK--[_Taking a gulp from his bottle--good-naturedly._] Aw right. Can de noise. I got yuh de foist time. [_The uproar subsides. A very drunken sentimental tenor begins to sing:_] "Far away in Canada, Far across the sea, There's a lass who fondly waits Making a home for me--" YANK--[_Fiercely contemptuous._] Shut up, yuh lousey boob! Where d'yuh get dat tripe? Home? Home, hell! I'll make a home for yuh! I'll knock yuh dead. Home! T'hell wit home! Where d'yuh get dat tripe? Dis is home, see? What d'yuh want wit home? [_Proudly._] I runned away from mine when I was a kid. On'y too glad to beat it, dat was me. Home was lickings for me, dat's all. But yuh can bet your shoit noone ain't never licked me since! Wanter try it, any of youse? Huh! I guess not. [_In a more placated but still contemptuous tone._] Goils waitin' for yuh, huh? Aw, hell! Dat's all tripe. Dey don't wait for noone. Dey'd double-cross yuh for a nickel. Dey're all tarts, get me? Treat 'em rough, dat's me. To hell wit 'em. Tarts, dat's what, de whole bunch of 'em. LONG--[_Very drunk, jumps on a bench excitedly, gesticulating with a bottle in his hand._] Listen 'ere, Comrades! Yank 'ere is right. 'E says this 'ere stinkin' ship is our 'ome. And 'e says as 'ome is 'ell. And 'e's right! This is 'ell. We lives in 'ell, Comrades--and right enough we'll die in it. [_Raging._] And who's ter blame, I arsks yer? We ain't. We wasn't born this rotten way. All men is born free and ekal. That's in the bleedin' Bible, maties. But what d'they care for the Bible--them lazy, bloated swine what travels first cabin? Them's the ones. They dragged us down 'til we're on'y wage slaves in the bowels of a bloody ship, sweatin', burnin' up, eatin' coal dust! Hit's them's ter blame--the damned capitalist clarss! [_There had been a gradual murmur of contemptuous resentment rising among the men until now he is interrupted by a storm of catcalls, hisses, boos, hard laughter._] VOICES--Turn it off! Shut up! Sit down! Closa da face! Tamn fool! (Etc.)