A Six A-Sailor Men

Sail, O’ sail, a six a-sailor men,

A thousand tides a-fore to cross;

O’er billows roll aloft,

The captain perched a-top a dozen masts,

Steering on, his chalet drifts.

 

Sail, o’ sail, a-docking far away;

Ghostly days so many a-sailing;

The grey tides all a veil they see;

The greeny mountains,

A-vision only sees.

 

Roaring all a-fearsome like,

The ocean groans and toss’ a-might;

With six sailors weary and cursing,

The scarlet bed of sour and sick,

That moors o’er the tidy decks.

 

But hopes a-full, the greens they’ll see,

A-billows wide, they roll aloft.

Pinching fogs and breaking tides along,

Their chalet drifts,

A-sailing on.

 

‘Hippity-yo!’ a six sailors cheer,

Their goblets of wine,

‘eir beards down a-drips;

A bountiful eve, a merrily morn’

Ashore they pull, their wives a-sober meet.