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But oh! a cruel sawcie wave
Hath swept him in the sea!
There's sadness in the gude schippe that breasts the waters wild,
Though safe ourselves we'll think with tears of our poor ocean-child!
Our main-mast now is clean cut downe,
The tackle torn away—
And thundering o'er the stout schippe's side,
The seas make fearful play!
Yet cheerlie cheerlie on we go,
Though fierce the tempest raves,
We know the hand unseen that guides
The schippe o'er stormie waves!
We'll all still stand by the old schippe as should a trusty crew,
For He who rules the wasting waves may some port bring to view!
Our gude schippe is a shapely schippe—
A shapely and a stronge—
Our hearts sang to our noble schippe,
As she careered along!
And fear ye not my sturdy mates
Though sayles and masts be riven—
