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1893
HEH! Walk her round. Heave, ah, heave her short again! | |
| Over, snatch her over, there, and hold her on the pawl. | |
| Loose all sail, and brace your yards back and full— | |
| Ready jib to pay her off and heave short all! | |
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| Well, ah, fare you well; we can stay no more with you, my love— | 5 |
| Down, set down your liquor and your girl from off your knee; | |
| For the wind has come to say: | |
| “You must take me while you may, | |
| If you’d go to Mother Carey | |
| (Walk her down to Mother Carey!), | 10 |
| Oh, we’re bound to Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea!” | |
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| Heh! Walk her round. Break, ah break it out o’ that! | |
| Break our starboard-bower out, apeak, awash, and clear! | |
| Port—port she casts, with the harbour-mud beneath her foot, | |
| And that’s the last o’ bottom we shall see this year! | 15 |
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| Well, ah, fare you well, for we’ve got to take her out again— | |
| Take her out in ballast, riding light and cargo-free. | |
| And it’s time to clear and quit | |
| When the hawser grips the bitt, | |
| So we’ll pay you with the foresheet and a promise from the sea! | 20 |
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| Heh! Tally on. Aft and walk away with her! | |
| Handsome to the cathead, now; O tally on the fall! | |
| Stop, seize and fish, and easy on the davit-guy. | |
| Up, well up the fluke of her, and inboard haul! | |
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| Well, ah, fare you well, for the Channel wind’s took hold of us, | 25 |
| Choking down our voices as we snatch the gaskets free. | |
| And it’s blowing up for night, | |
| And she’s dropping light on light, | |
| And she’s snorting as she’s snatching for a breath of open sea! | |
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| Wheel, full and by; but she’ll smell her road alone to-night. | 30 |
| Sick she is and harbour-sick—oh, sick to clear the land! | |
| Roll down to Brest with the old Red Ensign over us— | |
| Carry on and thrash her out with all she’ll stand! | |
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| Well, ah, fare you well, and it’s Ushant slams the door on us, | |
| Whirling like a windmill through the dirty scud to lee, | 35 |
| Till the last, last flicker goes | |
| From the tumbling water-rows, | |
| And we’re off to Mother Carey | |
| (Walk her down to Mother Carey!), | |
| Oh, we’re bound for Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea! | 40 |
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