 | Sea Songs |  |
98
TO THE PACIFIC.
Why, if you'd know perfect ease,
Just all that your heart can please,
Then off, mate, I say,
Ship, man, and away
To the isles of the Southern Seas.
Just all that your heart can please,
Then off, mate, I say,
Ship, man, and away
To the isles of the Southern Seas.
In a whaler just box about,
Watching round for a sperm-whale's spout,
Some six months or so
That for land you may know
How to keep, mate, a sharp look-out.
Watching round for a sperm-whale's spout,
Some six months or so
That for land you may know
How to keep, mate, a sharp look-out.
Then for shore when you're prime sharp-set,
And the land's look you half forget,
With a good trade wind,
Your whaler behind,
For port, let your course be set.
And the land's look you half forget,
With a good trade wind,
Your whaler behind,
For port, let your course be set.
99
And, I say, how you'll bless your eyes
To see some isle rise and rise
Till each bread-fruit tree
You can plainly see
And each leaf with its rainbow dyes.
To see some isle rise and rise
Till each bread-fruit tree
You can plainly see
And each leaf with its rainbow dyes.
And your old tub won't understand
As it rolls and dips to the land,
What mermaids they are
That come swimming so far
To board her, hand over hand.
As it rolls and dips to the land,
What mermaids they are
That come swimming so far
To board her, hand over hand.
But, mate, if I don't mistake,
You'll little palaver make
At a South-sea maid
Not being afraid
A trip to your deck to take.
You'll little palaver make
At a South-sea maid
Not being afraid
A trip to your deck to take.
Then—then for a snug shore-life,
With no fuss of bustle and strife,
Where no thought you give
To how you're to live
But leave that to your island wife.
With no fuss of bustle and strife,
Where no thought you give
To how you're to live
But leave that to your island wife.
No watch—no work to be done,
You've just to enjoy the sun,
Or lazily rove
From grove to grove,
Where trouble and want plague none.
You've just to enjoy the sun,
Or lazily rove
From grove to grove,
Where trouble and want plague none.
100
Then, at night, with some tattooed chief,
With a torch, wade off to a reef;
Through the waves so clear,
If you're neat with the spear,
Some fish you may bring to grief.
With a torch, wade off to a reef;
Through the waves so clear,
If you're neat with the spear,
Some fish you may bring to grief.
Talk of home-life just as you please;
Do any know here the ease
That I, mate, have known
Down South there alone
In those isles of the tropic seas.
Do any know here the ease
That I, mate, have known
Down South there alone
In those isles of the tropic seas.
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