Page 4

By Jack Joseph Smith

I was a foreigner Now switched out of power When a young student of archecture on adventure Spoke up in measure "On the murder of Mam, we must make a pledge to work no more for these bums of men; For to now bucket up this bloody dung, would fell our memory into cowards hell to tell!" Thus made was a pact as a last stand Issuing frenzy into the erie beating beasts of Mam-- While the young student man with feminine limbs yet a face likened to the red burning blotches given from the scorch of a fire wind And I stood by While remembering now saving him from homosexual scorn When two nights back He had held the drunken seamen in a trance As he dared do a modern jazz dance Yet as we emerged from the monsterous clubs that diehard ended Mam's breathing It was his thin freckled acne face that was leading While up in the Captain's quarters That Captain of giant proportions Replied to the Mate with the orders, "we'll cut off their food for starters." But they hadn't noted the chief engineer Who knew the world through an eternal sneer And had broken his last Captain's back over the starboard side rail and this time still sure to another tale gave no slack As he announced, that to see us through would continue a jolly fine way to be true And that we must not fail Gave push to our gale While the student man's eyes Seemed set sail on a smile as he said, "and when we reach port, I will get off the mail to the Cidney Times, for mine is that sort of sport making promise of revolution in the Union"

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

This page turns the shipboard crisis into a political awakening, with the student figure speaking revolt directly out of humiliation and labor.

The strongest movement here is from witness to declaration: the young man condemns the treatment of 'Mam,' refuses the degrading work, and imagines the newspaper and the Union as channels for response. The page also holds that idealism against a rougher social world of scorn, drunken seamen, monstrous clubs, and command violence, which makes the promise of revolution feel less rhetorical than necessary.

Claude

Grief hardens into a pact. The 'young student of archecture' - androgynous, 'with feminine limbs' and a face of 'red burning blotches' - speaks the revolt aloud: 'On the murder of Mam, / we must make a pledge / to work no more for these bums of men,' since to keep bucketing 'this bloody dung' 'would fell our memory / into cowards hell to tell.' The narrator backs him, recalling having saved him 'from homosexual scorn' after his 'modern jazz dance' held the seamen in a trance. Up in 'the Captain's quarters' the answer is starvation - 'we'll cut off their food for starters' - but the 'chief engineer,' who 'had broken his last Captain's back / over the starboard side rail,' throws in with the strikers, and the student promises to wire 'the Cidney Times' with 'revolution in the Union.' The sheep's death has become a labor uprising.