Songs for Sailors :: :: University of Virginia Library

‘Fisher, fisher, put back, I say!
There's storm brewing north, man, there away
There'll be wreck and death out at sea to-day;
Why to-day put out?’ I said.
Then straight his hoarse rough voice replied,
‘Out the boat must go, whate'er betide;
Too many at home for us to bide
Ashore while the bairns want bread;
No, no, no, no, my master, no!
To sea my boys and I must go,
Though the squall be black ahead.’

‘Fisher, fisher, put back I say!
See, the moaning billows are white to-day,
And black the squall comes up the bay;
They're mad who put out,’ I said.
But hoarse and harsh his voice replied,
‘Our boat must out, whate'er betide;
Would you have us leave our babes to bide,
And our wives, without their bread?
No, no, no, no, my master, no!
To sea my boys and I must go,
Though there's wreck and death ahead.’

‘Now God, O guard the boat, I pray,
The boat that to seaward bears away;
And God shield those whom that boat to-day
To peril bears out,’ I said;
‘And God the bold hearts guard and guide
Who to-day will out, whate'er betide,
Nor safe ashore will basely bide
While their homes are wanting bread;
And, O wild winds, when fierce you blow,
Spare those who to-day to sea must go
Though the squall be black ahead!’