The Ballad of Blaster Bill
By Nelson S. Bond
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Summer 1941.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
When you're hurtling 'round the Sun
On the perihelion run
Through the asteroids from Jupiter to Mars,
You may chance to see a light
In the everlasting night,
An unwinking beacon, sister to the stars.
Then each member of the crew
From the lowest wiper to
The Skipper on the bridge, a moment will
Drop all work and gravely, mute,
Raise his arm in full salute
To the final resting place of Blaster Bill.
Afterward, if you are not
Just a nosey rankey-pot,[1]
And the thing that ticks within you isn't stone,
You may learn from spacemens' lips
Tales of ancient days and ships,
And why Bill the Blaster lies there all alone.
II
Surly Jonathan McNeer
Was the Master Engineer
On the wallowing old freighter, Dotty Sue.
He was gruff, uncouth, unclean,
And his language was obscene,
But a better grease-pot never sheared the blue.
He had nerves of tempered steel,
And without a squawk or squeal
He would plot a course to Hades for a thrill;
But his temper was like fire
And the man who drew his ire,
Who tried his patience most, was—Blaster Bill.
Bill the Blaster was a lazy,
Good-for-nothing (some said crazy),
Guy who didn't have a gray cell in his head.
He had muscle in his shoulders,
And his forearms were like boulders,
But his cranium and can were filled with lead.
Without ever even trying
He could make McNeer start crying
Down the wrath of Baal upon his hapless dome.
He and awkwardness were cousins,