NO. III.—THE CAPTAIN'S ROUNDELAY.
Away, away, we gaily glide
Far from the wooden pier;
And down into the gushing tide
We drop the sailor's tear.
On—with the strong and hissing steam,
And seize the pliant wheel;
Of days gone by I fondly dream,
Quick, let the sturdy painter go,
And put the helm a-port;
Lay, lay the lofty funnel low,
And keep the rigging taut.
'Tis true, my tongue decision shows,
I act the captain's part;
But oh! there's none on board that knows
The captain's aching heart.
Upon the paddle-box all day
I've stood, and brav'd the gale,
While the light vessel made her way
Without a bit of sail.
And as upon its onward flight
The steamer cut the wave,
My crew I've order'd left and right,
My stout—my few—my brave!