Fine in the lines and keen in the bow,
The way they've forgotten to build 'em now:
Lofty masted and heavily sparred,
With stunsail booms to every yard,
And flying kites both high and low
To catch the wands when they did blow
(And away, my Clyde-built clipper!).
Fastest ship on the Colonies run—
(Away O, my racing clipper!)
That was her when her time begun;