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| CEASE, rude Boreas, blustering railer! | |
| List, ye landsmen, all to me, | |
| Messmates, hear a brother sailor | |
| Sing the dangers of the sea; | |
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| From bounding billows, first in motion, | 5 |
| When the distant whirlwinds rise, | |
| To the tempest-troubled ocean, | |
| Where the seas contend with skies. | |
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| Hark! the boatswain hoarsely bawling, | |
| By topsail sheets and halyards stand! | 10 |
| Down top-gallants quick be hauling! | |
| Down your stay-sails, hand, boys, hand! | |
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| Now it freshens, set the braces, | |
| Quick the topsail sheets let go; | |
| Luff, boys, luff! don’t make wry faces, | 15 |
| Up your topsails nimbly clew. | |
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| Round us roars the tempest louder, | |
| Think what fear our minds inthralls! | |
| Harder yet, it yet blows harder, | |
| Now again the boatswain calls. | 20 |
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| The topsail yard point to the wind, boys, | |
| See all clear to reef each course; | |
| Let the fore sheet go, don’t mind, boys, | |
| Though the weather should be worse. | |
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| Fore and aft the sprit-sail yard get, | 25 |
| Reef the mizzen, see all clear; | |
| Hands up! each preventive brace set! | |
| Man the fore yard, cheer, lads, cheer! | |
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| Now the dreadful thunder ’s roaring | |
| Peal on peal contending clash, | 30 |
| On our heads fierce rain falls pouring, | |
| In our eyes blue lightnings flash. | |
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| One wide water all around us, | |
| All above us one black sky; | |
| Different deaths at once surround us: | 35 |
| Hark! what means that dreadful cry? | |
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| The foremast ’s gone, cries every tongue out, | |
| O’er the lee twelve feet ’bove deck; | |
| A leak beneath the chest-tree ’s sprung out, | |
| Call all hands to clear the wreck. | 40 |
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| Quick the lanyards cut to pieces; | |
| Come, my hearts, be stout and bold; | |
| Plumb the well,—the leak increases, | |
| Four feet water in the hold! | |
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| While o’er the ship wild waves are beating, | 45 |
| We our wives and children mourn; | |
| Alas! from hence there ’s no retreating, | |
| Alas! to them there ’s no return! | |
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| Still the leak is gaining on us! | |
| Both chain-pumps are choked below: | 50 |
| Heaven have mercy here upon us! | |
| For only that can save us now. | |
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| O’er the lee-beam is the land, boys, | |
| Let the guns o’erboard be thrown; | |
| To the pumps call every hand, boys, | 55 |
| See! our mizzen-mast is gone. | |
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| The leak we ’ve found, it cannot pour fast; | |
| We ’ve lighted her a foot or more; | |
| Up and rig a jury foremast, | |
| She rights! she rights, boys! we ’re off shore. | 60 |
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