English

1. Away, haul away, rock and roll me
2. Away, haul away, roll me in the
over, Away, haul away, haul away, Joe! (or pull! )
clover, Away, haul away, haul away, Joe!

3 Away, haul away; git around the corner, Sally!
Away, haul away, haul away, Joe (or haul away ( and ) pull )!

4 Away, haul away, Saccarappa sailors!

5 Aw, but once I was in Ireland, a-digging turf and praties,

6 Aw, but now I'm in a Yankee ship a-hauling on sheets and braces.

Away from earth and its cares set free,
The soul in its blissful liberty
Shall soar to portals fair and bright;
Where sweet-voiced angels clad in white,
Are tuning their harps in heavenly glee:
We hope to spend Eternity.

Over the crystal sea of glass,
And through the golden streets we'll pass,
Floating along on the placid streams;
Or roaming through fields of eternal green,
A glorious awakening there will be:
When we land on the banks of Eternity.

In that beautiful home so far away,

1 Away down South where I was born,
To me way, hay, hay, yah,
Among the fields of cane and corn,
A long time ago.

2 I wish to God I had never been born
To go rambling round and round Cape Horn,

3 Around Cape Horn where wild winds blow,
Around Cape Horn through frost and snow.

4 The wind from the sou'west a-blowing a gale,
The packet ship she's crowding sail.

5 The monkey dressed in the sojer's clo'es,
But where he come from God on'y knows!

6 Oh, Bully John from Baltimore,

1. Away down South in old Tennessee, Way , hay,—hay, yah , Away
down South in old Tennessee, Oh, a long time a go .
2. It is a long time, a very long time, Way , hay,—
hay, ya , A long—time, a very long time, Oh, a long time a go .

3 Since my young lady has written to me, TWICE .

4 Saying, “Willie dear, come home from sea.” TWICE .

5 It is a long time, a very long time,
Oh, a long time, a very long time.

6 If ever I get my foot on the shore, TWICE .

7 Oh, I will go to sea no more!

San Manuel the priest who kept
his poor parish in the faith
burnished their bright hope of heaven
(hope is a thing with feathers)
it is best not to think these days
about what what the newspapers report so reasonably
(I lived in the first century of world wars,
most days I was more or less insane)
today's weather an endless rain of feathers

when the passenger pigeon now extinct
had not yet been converted
to fashion slaughtered its plumage plucked

Away beyond the Jarboe house
I saw a different kind of tree.
Its trunk was old and large and bent,
And I could feel it look at me.

The road was going on and on
Beyond to reach some other place.
I saw a tree that looked at me,
And yet it did not have a face.

It looked at me with all its limbs;
It looked at me with all its bark.
The yellow wrinkles on its sides
Were bent and dark.

And then I ran to get away,
But when I stopped and turned to see,
The tree was bending to the side

After Solomon Ibn Gabirol
Awake.
Your youth is passing like smoke
In the morning you are vital
a lily swaying
but before the evening is over,
you will be nothing but dead grass

Why struggle over who in your family
may have come from Abraham?
It's a waste of breath
Whether you feed on herbs
or Bashan rams
you, wretched man,
are already on your way into the earth.

Awake yee westerne Nymphs, arise and sing:
And with fresh tunes salute your welcome spring,
Behold a choyce, a rare and pleasant plant,
Which nothing but it's parallel doth want.
T'was but a tender slip a while agoe,
About twice ten years or a little moe,
But now 'tis grown unto such comely state
That one would think't an Olive tree or Date.

A skilfull Husband-man he was, who brought
This matchles plant from far, and here hath sought
A place to set it in: and for it's sake,
The wildernes a pleasant land doth make,

Awake to the cold light
of wet wind running
twigs in tremors. Walls
are naked. Twilights raw —
and when the sun taps steeples
their glistenings dwindle
upward . . .

March

slips along the ground
like a mouse under pussy
willows, a little hungry.

The vagrant ghost of winter,
is it this that keeps the chimney
busy still? For something still
nudges shingles and windows:

but waveringly, — this ghost,
this slate-eyed saintly wraith
of winter wanes
and knows its waning.

Awake! The day is coming now
That brings the sweat of anguish to the brow
Of Christians, Jews, and Pagans all!
Many a token in the sky
And on the earth shows it is nigh:
Foretold in Holy Writ withal.
The sun no longer shows
His face; and treason sows
His secret seeds that no man can detect;
Fathers by their children are undone;
The brother would the brother cheat;
And the cowled monk is a deceit,
Who should the way to Heaven direct;
Might is right, and justice there is none.