What a morning! How the sunlight
Sparkles on the outer bay,
Where the brig lies waiting for me
To trip anchor and away.
That’s the Doomkeel. You may know her
By her clean run aft; and, then,
Don’t you hear the Shadow Boatswain
Piping to his shadow men?
Off the freshening sea to windward,
Is it a white tern I hear