283
Songe of the Schippe.
When surly windes and grewsome cloudes
Are tilting in the skye,
And every little star's abed,
That glimmered cheerilie—
O then 'tis meet for mariners
To steer righte carefulie!
For mermaides sing the schippman's dirge,
Where ocean weddes the skye—
A blessing on our gude schippe as lustilie she sailes,
O what can match our gude schippe when blest with
favouring gales!
Blythely to the tall top-mast,
Up springs the sailor boy—
Could he but hail a distant port,
How he would leap with joy!
By bending yard and rope he swings—
A fair-haired child of glee—
T
