The sail that they carried aboard the Black Ball,
Their skysails and stunsails and ringtail and all,
And storms that they weathered and races they won
And records they broke in the days that are done.
Or sometimes he'd sing you some droning old song,
Some old sailors' ditty both mournful and long,
With queer little curlycues, twiddles and quavers,
Of smugglers and privateers, pirates and slavers,
"The brave female smuggler," the "packet of fame
That sails from New York and the Dreadnought's her name,"