Under all her topsails she trembled like a stag,The wind made a ripple in her bonny red flag;They cheered her from the shore and they cheered her from the pier,And under all her topsails she trembled like a deer.
So she passed swaying, where the green seas run,Her wind-steadied topsails were stately in the sun;There was glitter on the water from her red port light,So she passed swaying, till she was out of sight.
Long and long ago it was, a weary time it is,The bones of her sailor-men are coral plants by this;Coral plants, and shark-weed, and a mermaid's comb,And if the fishers net them they never bring them home.
It's rough on sailors' women. They have to mangle hard,And stitch at dungarees till their finger-ends are scarred,Thinking of the sailor-men who sang among the crowd,Hoisting of her topsails when she sailed so proud.
