A Song for Old Gloucester Town
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!
New England Magazine 1905