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THE BROWNIES AND THE TUGBOAT.
 WHILE Brownies strayed along a pier
To view the shipping lying near,
A tugboat drew their gaze at last;
'Twas at a neighboring wharf made fast.
Cried one: "See what in black and red
Below the pilot-house is spread!
In honor of the Brownie Band,
It bears our name in letters grand.
Through all the day she's on the go;
Now with a laden scow in tow,
And next with barges two or three,
Then taking out a ship to sea,
Or through the Narrows steaming round
In search of vessels homeward bound;
She's stanch and true from stack to keel,
And we should highly honored feel."
Another said: "An hour ago,
The men went up to see a show,
And left the tugboat lying here.
The steam is up, our course is clear,
We'll crowd on board without delay
And run her up and down the bay.
We have indeed a special claim,
 
Because she bears the 'Brownie' name.
Before the dawn creeps through the east
We'll know about her speed at least,
And prove how such a craft behaves
When cutting through the roughest waves.
Behind the wheel I'll take my stand
And steer her round with skillful hand,
Now down the river, now around
The bay, or up the broader sound;
Throughout the trip I'll keep her clear
Of all that might awaken fear.
When hard-a-port the helm I bring,
Or starboard make a sudden swing,
The Band can rest as free from dread
As if they slept on mossy bed.
I something know about the seas,
I've boxed a compass, if you please,
And so can steer her east or west,
Or north or south, as suits me best.
Without the aid of twinkling stars
Or light-house lamps, I'll cross the bars.
I know when north winds nip the nose,
Or sou'-sou'-west the 'pig-wind' blows,
As hardy sailors call the gale
That from that quarter strikes the sail."
A third replied: "No doubt you're smart
And understand the pilot's art,
But more than one a hand should take,
For all our lives will be at stake.
 
In spite of eyes and ears and hands,
And all the skill a crew commands,
How oft collisions crush the keel
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