John 'Popeye' Davies

[Varley]

The Old Boys of the Wireless College Colwyn Bay announced yesterday that John 'Popeye' Davies died very recently.

A lecturer who did his best to instill in us the telegraphist's trade (with the frequent admonishment of "The boy Scouts I drill in the Summer Holiday's have better Morse than you lot") and, after the college's closure, an R/O at Portishead. He will have carried the traffic for many of you to and from your loved ones.

A decent chap.

VA

[Hawkey01]

For anyone who can make it the details of Johns funeral are listed below.


John Davies' funeral will be at the Poole Crematorium (Dorset), Gravel Hill, Broadstone, Poole. BH17 9BQ at 2pm on Wednesday August 2nd.

Neville

[John Rogers]

My old shipmate wrote this, he crossed the bar this past year. R.I. P. Reg.



THE GARDEN

Bristol’s ‘Garden of Remembrance rests in Welsh Back’s quiet lee,
A few cable lengths from Neptune's iron stand.
It is there to honour seamen, who are finished with the sea,
And the seamen, who are finished with the land

While seamen have been honoured with stone monuments before,
Nelson's Column, Cabot Tower, Plymouth Hoe;
Britain's heroes sailed through history books to chart the foreign shore,
But the unsung heroes also had to go.

Men from Pill like Swisher Buck and Ray, who made Red Dusters fly,
Harry Higgins helped Fyffe’s White Ships build their fame
Like Fred Stinchcombe (with his trilby) or Flash Williams (with his tie)
And the lampy, Oscar Wilde (Not his real name.)

John G. Hopton came from Reading, not exactly seamen's land,
Youngest bosun on the Skin boats he became,
Served the smallest tot of Navy Rum with a giant iron hand,
The West Indies, when he left, was not the same.

Names like Pete and Rocky Elson, Stan Colenso, Trevor Jones,
Strange exotic names like Pancho, Mambo, Lou,
And the tragic, young Dave Dangerfield, who never made old bones,
Thousands went like that in Nineteen Forty Two.

D.B.S. back home from Bridgetown, Ginger Stadden told his tale,
And Billy Mills was king of knots and splice,
Or Georgie Burke, the seaman's friend who served the Royal ale,
But there's some who say, 'twas not his only vice.

Madame Mitchell's Madras 'curry' house was Brewer's claim to fame,
With Mick Batten, they both had a brief respite;
But their appetites were different then, both younger, fit and game,
They had 'curry' every morning noon and night.

Ginger Piper, Johnny Rogers, Cyril Budd, the Cisco Kid.
Names that echo, just like poetry to the ear.
Men with fingers just like marlin spikes, and every thumb a fid,
Men who sailed the deep wide oceans every year.

Wally Priestly, Pincher Martin, young Dick Carey and Roy Cox,
Padfield, Jackson, Marsh and Little, Veitch and Legg;
And Bob Godbert kept the galley hot, when Charlie Hills' were docked;
Though the word was 'He could really stretch an egg.'
Fred changed all the 'Lizzie's' light bulbs, while Reg plagued Johnny Bull,
And Ted was blamed for making Starling stew
There was one below, and one on deck and one kept the crew full,
The Kear brothers ranged the spectrum of the crew.

On the Donaldson's across the pond, with Cleverley and Dent,
Dezzo Wyatt could put sheepshanks in the wake.
Nova Scotia bound with Oxenham, Charlie Dorrington also went,
And Den Fellows, who was turned in on the rake.

All these names sailed towering ocean's peaks, and long Pacific swells,
And cleaved the barren, sandy Suez track.
Through the Red Sea, down to Aden and the Queen of Sheba's Wells,
And 'round the Horn' where the ships 'sometimes' came back.

All around the Caribbean, and the both hands of the 'States'




Working merchant ships that carved their names with pride.
Ships like Cunard, Smith's and Ropner boats with passengers and freight,
It was 'up one way, then down the other side.'

Through the Far East via Good Hope, up the Gulf to Abadan;
Hard about and head for L.E.F.O. and your pay;
Change of orders came at 'seven bells' as you're fighting the blackpan,
Hard about again, and head the other way.

Now, these names are not exhausted, just a few from Avonmouth,
There's a million seamen not recorded here;
But they're part of British history and they voyaged north and south,
And their number seems much smaller every year.

No, these names are not in history books, they're only in the mind,
In quiet moments, in the 'Garden on the quay'
When old seamen stir their memories, and among them you will find,
That one of those old names belongs to me.

Reg Kear... © Australia 1999.

[Hawkey01]

Excellent. Very appropriate to all our friends and colleagues now departed.

R.I.P to the all.

Neville