A VOYAGE TO THE FORTUNATE ISLES.
7
He has to sleep till Judgment. We
Must sink where all the sailors are,
'Who used to die, when storms would come,
Away off from their home."
Must sink where all the sailors are,
'Who used to die, when storms would come,
Away off from their home."
"Lie still, you foolish yellow heads.
This is a ship. We're sailing." "Where?"
"Go nestle in your little beds.
Be quiet. We shall soon be there."
"Where?" "Why, it is not many miles."
"Where?" "To the Fortunate Isles."
This is a ship. We're sailing." "Where?"
"Go nestle in your little beds.
Be quiet. We shall soon be there."
"Where?" "Why, it is not many miles."
"Where?" "To the Fortunate Isles."
"Home is the best. Oh, what a light!
God must be looking in the sea.
It is His glass. He makes it bright
All over with His face. And He
Is angry. He is talking loud
Out of that broken cloud.
God must be looking in the sea.
It is His glass. He makes it bright
All over with His face. And He
Is angry. He is talking loud
Out of that broken cloud.
The men all hear Him, in the ropes:
He's telling them the ship must go.
They 'd better climb to Him." Pale Hopes
Looked from each wretched breast, to know
If somewhere, through the shattered night,
One sail could be in sight.
He's telling them the ship must go.
They 'd better climb to Him." Pale Hopes
Looked from each wretched breast, to know
If somewhere, through the shattered night,
One sail could be in sight.
