 | Sea Songs |  |
127
A SONG FROM THE SEA-PORTS.
What's murder? Killing men ashore—that's murder, well we know;
And killing babes and women too on land is reckoned so.
On land you musn't stop a breath with water, gun, or knife;
You're judged to die a murderer if ashore you take a life.
In the good of hanging murderers ashore they all agree;
But the hangman has no rope for those who murder men at sea.
And killing babes and women too on land is reckoned so.
On land you musn't stop a breath with water, gun, or knife;
You're judged to die a murderer if ashore you take a life.
In the good of hanging murderers ashore they all agree;
But the hangman has no rope for those who murder men at sea.
We've often talked it over, but we've no difference found
'Twixt murderers by whom men are stabbed and those by whom they're drowned;
Why sinking men in ocean and killing men on land
Shouldn't both deserve the gallows—that no sailors understand.
They're murderers all alike, we say—the noose their doom should be,
Who end a single life on land or scores away at sea.
'Twixt murderers by whom men are stabbed and those by whom they're drowned;
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Shouldn't both deserve the gallows—that no sailors understand.
They're murderers all alike, we say—the noose their doom should be,
Who end a single life on land or scores away at sea.
We give our days to serve you; they've dangers quite enough;
They've not the smooth life of your towns; they're toilsome, hard, and rough.
With the best of captains and of ships, the lee shore and the storm
We sailors have to battle with while you sleep safe and warm.
We should not be sent to drown like dogs; we know that shouldn't be;
And gold should not be made, we say, by murdering men at sea.
They've not the smooth life of your towns; they're toilsome, hard, and rough.
With the best of captains and of ships, the lee shore and the storm
We sailors have to battle with while you sleep safe and warm.
We should not be sent to drown like dogs; we know that shouldn't be;
And gold should not be made, we say, by murdering men at sea.
Rich men grow richer wrecking us; that plainly now we're told;
To sea we're sent in worn-out hulks whose timbers hardly hold;
Short-manned and deep deck-laden, when storms are looked for most,
So scores of ships go down at sea, or strew with wrecks your coast.
But they left your ports insured so well, their loss great gain will be
To those that send us sailors doomed to drown away at sea.
To sea we're sent in worn-out hulks whose timbers hardly hold;
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So scores of ships go down at sea, or strew with wrecks your coast.
But they left your ports insured so well, their loss great gain will be
To those that send us sailors doomed to drown away at sea.
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