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John Greenleaf Whittier

"Song of the Fishermen" (karaoke)

"Song of the Fishermen" (sheet music)


Hurrah! the seaward breezes

Sweep down the bay amain;

Heave up, my lads, the anchor!

Run up the sail again!

Leave to the lubber landsmen

The railcar and the steed;

The stars of heav'n shall guide us,

The breath of heav'n shall speed.

 

Now, brothers, for the icebergs

Of frozen Labrador,

Floating spectral in the moonshine,

A long the low, black shore!

Where like snow the gannet's feathers

On Brador's rocks are shed,

And the noisy murr are flying,

Like black scuds overhead;

Where in mist the rock is hiding,

And the sharp reef lurks below,

And the white squall smites in summer,

And the autumn tempests blow;

Where, through grey and rolling vapour

From evening unto morn,

A thousand boats are hailing,

Horn answ'ring unto horn.

 

In the darkness as in daylight,

On the water as on land,

God's eye is looking on us,

And beneath us is His hand!

Death will find us soon or later,

On the deck or in the cot;

And we cannot meet him better

Than in working out our lot.

Hurrah, hurrah! the west wind

Comes fresh'ning down the bay,

The rising sails are filling,

Give way, my lads, give way!

Leave the coward landsman clinging

To the dull earth, like a weed,—

The stars of heav'n shall guide us,

The breath of heav'n shall speed!


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