Good of him, ay, the Chaplain to enter Lone Bay
And down on his marrow-bones here and pray
For the likes just o' me, Billy Budd. —But, look:
Through the port comes the moon-shine astray : !
It tips the guard's cutlas and silvers this nook , ;
But 'twill die in the dawning of Billy's last day ! .
Ay, a A jewel-block they'll make of me tomorrow,
Pendant Yes a pearl from the yard-arm-end
Like the ear-drop I gave to Bristol Molly —
O, 'tis
Billy
me
, not the sentence they'll suspend.
Ay, Ay, all is up; and I must up too
Early in the morning, and never a cock aloft from alow will crow
On an empty stomach , no, now never it would do.
But they'll They'll give me a nibble — bit o' buiscit ere I go.
Sure, a messmate will reach me the last parting cup , ;
And But turning heads away from the hoist and the belay,
Heaven knows who will have the running of me up . !
No song pipe to those halyards. — But aren't it all sham?
A blur's in my eyes; sure, its it is it is dreaming that I am.
A hatchet to my hauzer? all adrift to go?
Ay, Ay, all is up; and I must up too
Early in the morning, and never a cock aloft from alow will crow
On an empty stomach , no, now never it would do.
But they'll They'll give me a nibble — bit o' buiscit ere I go.
Sure, a messmate will reach me the last parting cup , ;
And But turning heads away from the hoist and the belay,
Heaven knows who will have the running of me up . !
No song pipe to those halyards. — But aren't it all sham?
A blur's in my eyes; sure, its it is it is dreaming that I am.
A hatchet to my hauzer? all adrift to go?
The drum roll to grog, and Billy never know?
But a chum the Dansker Donald he has promised to stand by the plank;
So I'll shake a friendly hand ere I sink.
But — no! T It is dead then I'll be, come to think.—
I remember Taff the Welshman when he sank.
And his cheek it was like the budded budding pink
Will But me they they'll lash me in my hammock, drop me deep ? .
But a chum the Dansker Donald he has promised to stand by the plank;
So I'll shake a friendly hand ere I sink.
But — no! T It is dead then I'll be, come to think.—
I remember Taff the Welshman when he sank.
And his cheek it was like the budded budding pink
Will But me they they'll lash me in my hammock, drop me deep ? .
Fathoms down
,
fathoms down,
how I'll dream fast asleep.
I feel it stealing now. Sentry, are you there?
Just ease this darbies shackles iron at the wrist,
Ease it, and roll me over fair . ,
I am drowzy sleepy , and the oozy weeds about me twist.
I feel it stealing now. Sentry, are you there?
Just ease this darbies shackles iron at the wrist,
Ease it, and roll me over fair . ,
I am drowzy sleepy , and the oozy weeds about me twist.