Page:Tartan plaid.pdf/4

4 Down top-gallants, quick be hawling,

Down your stay-sails; hand, boys, hand.

Now it freshens, set the braces,

Now the top-sail sheets let go;

Luff, boys, luff, don't make wry faces,

Up your top-sails nimbly clew.

Now all you on down beds sporting,

Fondly lock'd in beauty's arms,

Fresh enjoyment, wanton courting,

Safe from all but love's alarms:

Round us roars the tempest louder,

Think what fears our minds enthral;

Harder yet, it yet beats harder—

Now again the boatswain's call.

The top-sail yards point to the wind, boys,

See all clear to reef each course,

Let the fore-sheet go, don't mind, boys,

Tho' the weather should be worse:

Fore and aft the spritsail-yard get,

Reef the mizen, see all clear,

Hands up, each preventer brace set,

Man the fore-yard, cheer, lads, cheer.

Now the dreadful thunder's roaring,

Peal on peal contending clash,

On our heads fierce rain falls pouring,

In our eyes blue light'nings flash.

One wide water all around us,

All above us one black sky,