 | Songs of two centuries |  |
125
THE VICTORY-WRECK.
O stealthily-creeping Merrimac,
Hush low your fiery breath:
You who gave life to ships of strife
Are sailing unto your death!—
“I am ready and dressed for burial,
Beneath the Cuban wave;
But still I can fight for God and right,
While resting in my grave!”
Hush low your fiery breath:
You who gave life to ships of strife
Are sailing unto your death!—
“I am ready and dressed for burial,
Beneath the Cuban wave;
But still I can fight for God and right,
While resting in my grave!”
O men that are sailing the Merrimac,
Your hearts are beating high;
But send a prayer through the smoking air,
To your Captain in the sky!—
“We know there is death in every breath,
As we cling to the gunless deck;
And grand will be our voyage, if we
Can make of our ship a wreck!”
Your hearts are beating high;
But send a prayer through the smoking air,
To your Captain in the sky!—
“We know there is death in every breath,
As we cling to the gunless deck;
And grand will be our voyage, if we
Can make of our ship a wreck!”
Now drop the bower of the Merrimac,
And swing her with the tide.
Now scuttle her, braves, and bid the waves
Sweep into her shattered side!—
“Through a flying hell of shot and shell,
We passed Death, with a sneer;
We wrenched our life from the novel strife,
And even our foemen cheer!”
And swing her with the tide.
Now scuttle her, braves, and bid the waves
Sweep into her shattered side!—
“Through a flying hell of shot and shell,
We passed Death, with a sneer;
We wrenched our life from the novel strife,
And even our foemen cheer!”
| Songs of two centuries | |