 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
74
BALTIMORE BOAT SONG
With swelling sail away, away!
Our bark goes bounding o'er the bay.
“Farewell, farewell, old Baltimore,”
She curtseys, curtseys to the shore.
Our bark goes bounding o'er the bay.
“Farewell, farewell, old Baltimore,”
She curtseys, curtseys to the shore.
Farewell, fond wives and children dear,
From ev'ry ill Heav'n keep you clear;
Till thro' the surge we stagger back,
As full of herring as we'll pack.
From ev'ry ill Heav'n keep you clear;
Till thro' the surge we stagger back,
As full of herring as we'll pack.
For when we've sowed and gardened here,
Far off to other fields we'll steer;
Our farm upon the distant deep,
Where all at once you till and reap.
Far off to other fields we'll steer;
Our farm upon the distant deep,
Where all at once you till and reap.
There, there the reeling ridge we plough,
Our coulter keen the cutter's prow;
While fresh and fresh from out the trawl
The fish by hundreds in we haul.
Our coulter keen the cutter's prow;
While fresh and fresh from out the trawl
The fish by hundreds in we haul.
Thou glorious sun, gleam on above
O'er Erin, Erin, of our love.
Ye ocean airs, preserve her peace,
Ye night dews, yield her rich increase.
O'er Erin, Erin, of our love.
Ye ocean airs, preserve her peace,
Ye night dews, yield her rich increase.
Until, one glittering realm of grain,
She waves her wanderers home again;
And we come heaping from our hold
A silver crop beside the gold.
She waves her wanderers home again;
And we come heaping from our hold
A silver crop beside the gold.
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |