The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
The winds were lovesick with them; the oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water which they beat to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes.
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Oh, swiftly glides the bonnie boat.
Just parted from the shore,
And to the fisher's chorus-note,
read more
Oh, swiftly glides the bonnie boat.
Just parted from the shore,
And to the fisher's chorus-note,
Soft moves the dipping oar!
It would have been as though he [President Andrew Johnson] were
in a boat of stone with masts of read more
It would have been as though he [President Andrew Johnson] were
in a boat of stone with masts of steel, sails of lead, ropes of
iron, the devil at the helm, the wrath of God for a breeze, and
hell for his destination.
And let our barks across the pathless flood
Hold different courses.
And let our barks across the pathless flood
Hold different courses.
On the ear
Drops the light drip of the suspended oar.
On the ear
Drops the light drip of the suspended oar.
A strong nor'wester's blowing, Bill;
Hark! don't ye hear it roar now?
Lord help 'em, how I read more
A strong nor'wester's blowing, Bill;
Hark! don't ye hear it roar now?
Lord help 'em, how I pities them
Unhappy folks on shore, now.
For she is such a smart little craft,
Such a neat little, sweet little craft--
Such a read more
For she is such a smart little craft,
Such a neat little, sweet little craft--
Such a bright little,
Tight little,
Slight little,
Light little,
Trim little, slim little craft!
Faintly as tolls the evening chime,
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time,
Soon as read more
Faintly as tolls the evening chime,
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time,
Soon as the woods on shore dim,
We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn;
Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near and the daylight's past.
The Liner she's a lady, an' she never looks nor 'eeds--
The Man-o'-War's 'er 'usband an' 'e gives 'er read more
The Liner she's a lady, an' she never looks nor 'eeds--
The Man-o'-War's 'er 'usband an' 'e gives 'er all she needs;
But, oh, the little cargo-boats, that sail the wet seas roun',
They're just the same as you an' me, a'-plyin' up an' down.
Like the watermen that row one way and look another.
Like the watermen that row one way and look another.
