Classic Poem

Bark , that bears me through foam and squall,
You in the storm are my castle-wall!
Though the sea should redden from bottom to top,
From tiller to mast she takes no drop.
On the tide top, the tide top —
Wherry aroon, my land and store!
On the tide top, the tide top,
She is the boat can sail galore!

She dresses herself, and goes gliding on,
Like a dame in her robes of the Indian lawn;
For God has blessed her, gunnel and wale —
And O! if you saw her stretch out to the gale,
On the tide top, the tide top —
Wherry aroon, my land and store!
On the tide top, the tide top,
She is the boat can sail galore!

Whillan ahoy! — Old heart of stone,
Stooping so black o'er the beach alone,
Answer me well: on the bursting brine
Saw you ever a bark like mine,
On the tide top, the tide top?
Wherry aroon, my land and store!
On the tide top, the tide top,
She is the boat can sail galore!

Says Whillan, Since first I was made of stone,
I have looked abroad o'er the beach alone;
But, till to-day, on the bursting brine,
Saw I never a bark like thine!
On the tide top, the tide top —
Wherry aroon, my land and store!
On the tide top, the tide top,
She is the boat can sail galore!

God of the air! the seamen shout,
When they see us tossing the brine about,
Give us the shelter of strand or rock,
Or through and through us she goes with a shock!
On the tide top, the tide top —
Wherry aroon, my land and store!
On the tide top, the tide top,
She is the boat can sail galore!