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The Song Book
Now it freshens, set the braces, Quick the topsail-sheets let go ;
Luff, boys, luff, don't make wry faces, Up your topsails nimbly clew.
Now all you at home in safety,
Sheltered from the howling storm, Tasting joys by Heaven vouchsafed ye,
Of our state vain notions form. Round us roars the tempest louder,
Think what fear our mind enthrals ! Harder yet it blows, still harder
Now again the boatswain calls.
The topsail-yards point to the wind, boys,
See all clear to reef each course— Let the foresheet go—don't mind, boys,
Though the weather should be worse. Fore and aft the spritsail-yard get,
Reef the mizen—see all clear— Hand up, each preventer-brace set—
Man the foreyards—cheer, lads, cheer !
Now the awful thunder's rolling,
Peal on peal contending clash ; On our heads fierce rain falls pouring,
In our eyes blue lightnings flash: One wide water all around us,
All above us one black sky, Diff'rent deaths at once surround us,
Hark ! what means that dreadful cry ? The foremast's gone ! cries ev'ry tongue out,
O'er the lee twelve fcfci 'bove deck; A leak beneath the chest-tree's sprung out—
Call all hands to clear the wreck. |
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