Found - full text of rowing poem
Keith Thomas
last week, I have found that there are two poems,
not entirely dissimilar.
THE OARSMAN’S SONG
The willowy sway of the hands away
And the water boiling aft,
The elastic spring and the steely fling
That drives the flying craft.
The steely spring and the musical ring
Of the blade with the biting grip,
And the stretching draw of the bending oar
That rounds the turn with a whip.
And the lazy float that runs the boat,
And makes the swing quite true,
And gives that rest that the oarsman blest
As he drives the blade right through.
All through the swing he hears the boat sing
As she glides on her flying track,
And he gathers aft to strike the craft
With a ringing bell-note crack.
From stretcher to oar with drive and draw,
He speeds the boat along.
All whalebone and steel and willowy feel –
That is the oarsman’s song.
From: "The Complete Steve Fairbairn" This one is
attributed to Steve Fairbairn himself.
The second poem is attributed to James L
Cuthbertson
A RACING EIGHT
Who knows it not, who loves it not,
The long and steady swing,
The instant dip, the iron grip,
The rowlock's linked ring,
The arrowy sway of the hands away,
The slider oiling aft,
The forward sweep, the backward leap,
That speed the flying craft?
A racing eight of perfect mould
True to the builder's law
That takes the water's gleaming gold
Without a single flaw.
A ship deep, resonant within,
Harmonious to the core,
That vibrates to her polished skin
The tune of wave and oar.
A racing eight and no man late,
And all hearts in the boat,
The men who work and never shirk,
Who long to be afloat.
The crew who burn from stem to stern
To win the foremost place;
The crew to row, the boat to go,
The eight to win the race.
This morning's outing in our 8+ had the rhythm of
the latter poem rather than the former,
unfortunately.
Keith, Canberra, Australia