Out of the earth to rest or range
Perpetual in perpetual change,
The unknown passing through the strange.
FRIENDS and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blessed abode,
But the hope of the City of God at the other end of the road.
Not for us are content, and quiet, and peace of mind,
When I am buried, all my thoughts and acts
Will be reduced to lists of dates and facts,
And long before this wandering flesh is rotten
The Loch Achray was a clipper tall
With seven-and-twenty hands in all.
Twenty to hand and reef and haul,
A skipper to sail and mates to bawl
Here, where we stood together, we three men,
Before the war had swept us to the East
Three thousand miles away, I stand again
And hear the bells, and breathe, and go to feast.
OH some are fond of red wine, and some are fond of white,
And some are all for dancing by the pale moonlight;
But rum alone's the tipple, and the heart's delight
Of the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.
This is a sacred city built of marvellous earth.
Life was lived nobly here to give such beauty birth.
Mother Carey? She's the mother o' the witches
sort o' rips;
We're bound for blue water where the great winds blow,
It's time to get the tacks aboard, time for us to go;