A Song for Old Gloucester Town
by William Hale

Row, shipmates, row! 
There are trawls to be cast, 
There are squalls to be passed, 
Ere the sun in the sea goes down; 
There are wives to be wed, 
There are babes to be fed, 
In the harbor o' Gloucester town - 
Heave, haul, - let her go! 

Row, shipmates, row! 
There are sails to be trimmed, 
There are banks to be rimmed, 
In spite o' the storm-god's frown; 
There are fish to be caught, 
There are fights to be fought, 
By the men of old Gloucester town - 
Heave, haul, - let her go! 

Row, shipmates, row! 
There are griefs to be met, 
There are cheeks to be wet 
On the great hills sea-cursed crown; 
There are prayers to be said, 
By the living and dead, 
By the women o' Gloucester town- 
Heave, haul, - let her go! 

Row, shipmates, row! 
There are deeds to be done, 
There are trips to be run, 
Tho’ we devils o’ sea-dogs drown; 
There are seas to be crossed, 
There are lives to be lost, 
For the sake of old Gloucester town - 
Heave, haul, - let her go!