At dreamy midnight's cheerless hour,
Deserted e'en by Cynthia's beams,
When tempests beat and torrents pour,
And twinkling stars no longer gleam.
The wearied sailor, spent with toil,
Clings firmly to the weather shrouds;
And still the lengthened hour to guile,
Sings, as he views the gathering clouds:
Larboard watch, ahoy!
But who can speak the joy he feels
While o'er the foam his vessel reels,
And his tir'd eyelids slumbering fall
He rouses at the welcome call
Of larboard watch, ahoy!
With anxious care he eyes each wave,
That, swelling, threatens to ov'rwhelm,
And his storm-beaten bark to save,
Directs with skill the faithful helm.
With joy he drinks the cheering grog,
'Mid storms that bellow loud and hoarse;
With joy he heaves the reeling log,
And marks the leeway and the course:
Larboard watch, ahoy!-Chorus.