 | Sea Songs |  |
130
AT CLOVELLY.
Yes, I and the sea are one,
Have been one since I first drew breath,
Shall be one till my days are done,
Till I find, in those waters, death.
Have been one since I first drew breath,
Shall be one till my days are done,
Till I find, in those waters, death.
You see, to such folks as I
The sea is always a mate,
From the day it first hears us cry,
Till it hushes us, soon or late.
The sea is always a mate,
From the day it first hears us cry,
Till it hushes us, soon or late.
To you, I know, all is strange
Down here in our brown old port,
Where our lives know never a change,
All that pleases folks of your sort.
Down here in our brown old port,
Where our lives know never a change,
All that pleases folks of your sort.
131
You landsmen but now and then
Think a week or two should be passed
Here, trying to feel like men,
Salted red by the keen sea-blast.
Think a week or two should be passed
Here, trying to feel like men,
Salted red by the keen sea-blast.
So you that live with the land,
From our roar and our foam so far,
You never can understand
What the lives of us sea-mates are.
From our roar and our foam so far,
You never can understand
What the lives of us sea-mates are.
We are born—that roar in our ears;
We grow—to sport on those waves;
Bread they give to us—hopes and fears,
Just all, till they find us graves.
We grow—to sport on those waves;
Bread they give to us—hopes and fears,
Just all, till they find us graves.
Ah, masters, there's never a cot
Up there, that the storm howls round,
Whence some winner of bread has not
A grave in yon deep sea found.
Up there, that the storm howls round,
Whence some winner of bread has not
A grave in yon deep sea found.
Bless your God, you have not to think
As we, with the storms at strife,
Some day we must surely sink
With a last thought of child and wife.
As we, with the storms at strife,
Some day we must surely sink
With a last thought of child and wife.
132
Well, well, it's not we that die
That suffer; it's those we leave,
The babes for their bread that cry,
The wife left to want and grieve!
That suffer; it's those we leave,
The babes for their bread that cry,
The wife left to want and grieve!
I've looked from this very shore
Out over the racing foam,
For a father to come no more
To gladden and feed a home.
Out over the racing foam,
For a father to come no more
To gladden and feed a home.
'Twas fifty hard years ago,
Yet it seems but as yesterday,
When that sobbing storm moaned low,
As the tempest died away.
Yet it seems but as yesterday,
When that sobbing storm moaned low,
As the tempest died away.
And I, but a small boy then,
Looked to sea from a drawn-up boat,
And longed to be strong as men,
To work, for mother, afloat.
Looked to sea from a drawn-up boat,
And longed to be strong as men,
To work, for mother, afloat.
God helped us through weary years;
My manhood I reached at last;
Then my mother no more knew tears;
Then I wiped out the hungry past.
My manhood I reached at last;
Then my mother no more knew tears;
Then I wiped out the hungry past.
133
Now I live just my father's life;
From those waters I trawl my bread;
Now in calm, now with squalls at strife,
I shall toil till I join the dead.
From those waters I trawl my bread;
Now in calm, now with squalls at strife,
I shall toil till I join the dead.
Shall I die in my bed like you?
Shall I slumber beneath the sod?
As my fathers did, I must do,
Work, and leave all the rest to God.
Shall I slumber beneath the sod?
As my fathers did, I must do,
Work, and leave all the rest to God.
| Sea Songs | |