Shipmates o' mine, are you sleeping fair an' sound,
Mates fair an' foul, friend an' foe,
Lyin' where lost ships are, sunken deep an' drowned
In Davy Jones's locker down below?
In wide seas an' narrow, deep seas an' shoal,
There's no stone above you an' no bell to toil:
O rest for your body an' peace to your soul,
Shipmates a-sleepin' down below.
Shipmates o' mine, are you sleepin' fair an' sweet,
Where's never sun to burn or wind to blow,
Slid over side wi' the shot at head an' feet
To Davy Jones's locker down below?
Jock fro' Skye an' Stornoway, Mick o' Donegal,
Black skin an' white skin that answer the call,
Rip an' rogue an' honest man, room for 'em all,
Shipmates a-sleepin' down below.
Shipmates o' mine, are you sleeping fair an' sound
While we're a-trampin', trampin' to an' fro,
Do you heed us home-returnin', do you bless us outward bound,
In Davy Jones's locker down below?
Do you dream e'er so little o' the ship an' the crew,
O' ship-bell, an' chantey, an' sea still an' blue,
An' the hoot o' the syren, an' the thresh o' the screw,
Shipmates a-sleepin' down below?
Notes
From WINGS OF THE MORNING, edited by Cicely Fox Smith, published by Elkin Mathews, London, UK, © 1904, pp. 89-90.
This poem also seems a precursor of the many nautical poems to come. For example some of the lines foreshadow lines in "Shipmates."
"Trampin'" is sailor's slang for the practice of cargo ships delivering cargo to a port where they have no prior contract for return cargo and would have to negotiate from scratch or sail in ballast to another port for cargo.
Charley Noble
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