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FROM CAPE HORN.
You landsmen lie in clover,
In down beds soft and warm, But to us they're far the softest
Who have sailed through ice and storm; It makes a warm bed warmer To think of what we've borne, As we beat, Ice and sleet, In winter round the Horn.
You landsmen feel it cosy,
This coal-fire's ruddy glow, But, as we toast us in its blaze,
A dearer warmth we know; It makes a red fire hotter, To think of all we've borne, As we beat, Ice and sleet, In snow-storms round the Horn.