5 May 2010 0 Comments

The Nightwatch Song of the Charlotte Jane

‘Tis the first watch of the night, brothers,
And the strong wind rides the deep;
And the cold stars shining bright, brothers,
Their mystic courses keep.
Whilst our ship her path is cleaving,
The flashing waters through,
Here’s a health to the land we are leaving,
And the land we are going to!

First sadly bow the head, brothers,
In silence o’er the wine,
To the memory of the dead, brothers,
The fathers of our line.
Though their tombs may not receive us,
Far o’er the ocean blue,
Their spirits ne’er shall us,
In the land we are going to.

Whilst yet sad memories move us,
A second cup we’ll drain,
To the manly hearts that love us,
In our old homes o’er the main.
Fond arms that used to caress us,
Sweet smiles from eyes of blue,
Lips that no more may bless us,
In the land we are going to.

But away with sorrow now, brothers,
Fill the wine-cup to the brim!
Here’s to all who’ll swear the vow, brothers,
Of this our midnight hymn:
That each man shall be a brother,
Who has joined our gallant crew:
That we’ll stand by one another,
In the worlds we are going to.

Fill again, before we part, brothers,
Fill the deepest draught of all,
To the loved ones of our hearts, brothers,
Who reward and share out toil.
From husbands and from brothers,
All honour be their due,
The noble maids and mothers,
Of the land we are going to.

The wine is at the end, brothers,
But e’re we close our eyes,
Let a silent prayer ascend, brothers,
Should our toil be all unblest, brothers,
Should ill winds of fortune blow,
May we find God’s haven of rest, brothers,
The land we are going to

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