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Sea Songs

By W. C. Bennett
 
 
 

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GIVE HER A GALE AND SHE'LL GO.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


7

GIVE HER A GALE AND SHE'LL GO.

Give her a gale and she'll go;
Like a petrel she'll skim the blast;
While the spray sweeps her deck with snow,
As the waves, in their race, foam past;
Pack on every stitch she can bear;
Let her use, as she can, her wings;
Through the crests of the waves she'll tear,
While the blast through her taut shrouds sings;
She's a clipper that none can match;
At that sea, how she leapt and laughed;
Where's the boat that her heels can catch?
Then, “Here's to our peerless craft.”

8

A swan, in a calm, she'll lie,
Looking down in her green sea glass
At her form that she loves to eye,
For she's vain, is our dainty lass;
The fins round our beauty swarm;
The gulls, near her, love to float;
For pleasant to all's the form
Of our beauty, our good tight boat;
She's perfect from flag to keel;
Where's the one that, our lass, can whip?
Safe in her, as ashore, you feel;
Then, “Here's to our peerless ship.”