Tom Deadlight

Farewell and adieu to you noble hearties,-- Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain, For I've received orders for to sail for the Deadman, But hope with the grand fleet to see you again. I have hove my ship to, with main-top-sail aback, boys; I have hove my ship to, for the strike soundings clear-- The black scud a'flying; but, by God's blessing, dam' me, Right up the Channel for the Deadman I'll steer. I have worried through the waters that are called the Doldrums, And growled at Sargasso that clogs while ye grope-- Blast my eyes, but the light-ship is hid by the mist, lads:-- _Flying Dutchman_--odds bobbs--off the Cape of Good Hope! But what's this I feel that is fanning my cheek, Matt? The white goney's wing?--how she rolls!-- 't is the Cape!-- Give my kit to the mess, Jock, for kin none is mine, none; And tell _Holy Joe_ to avast with the crape. Dead reckoning, says _Joe_, it won't do to go by; But they doused all the glims, Matt, in sky t' other night. Dead reckoning is good for to sail for the Deadman; And Tom Deadlight he thinks it may reckon near right. The signal!--it streams for the grand fleet to anchor. The captains--the trumpets--the hullabaloo! Stand by for blue-blazes, and mind your shank-painters, For the Lord High Admiral, he's squinting at you! But give me my _tot_, Matt, before I roll over; Jock, let's have your flipper, it's good for to feel; And don't sew me up without _baccy_ in mouth, boys, And don't blubber like lubbers when I turn up my keel.