The fierce winds howl ’round the sinking wreck,
And the captain stands on the wave-washed deck;
The good ship struggles like a thing of life,
And the timbers groan in the awful strife;
Slowly, slowly, sinking is she,
But the captain, brave—ah, where is he?
Down he goes to a sailor’s grave,
As his last words are wafted across the wave:
“Good-bye, my lads, good-bye!
Good-bye, my lads, good-bye!”—Chorus.