ALL HANDS, AHOY!

 

 

     When mid the howling of the storm,

       Old ocean takes his wildest form,

     And o'er the rocks with thunder loud

       Spreads out his white and threat'ning shroud,

     How solemn sounds the boatswain's cry,

       While thro' the ship his mates reply:

     All hands, ahoy!

 

     And when upon the foaming sea,

       The warship meets her enemy,

     While o'er the taffrail proudly wave

       The gleaming banners of the brave,

     How cheering sounds the boatswain's cry,

       While drums to quarters swift reply:

     All hands, ahoy!

 

     And at the last decisive day,

       When rolling Heav'n shall pass away,

     And Ocean from her pearly bed

       With Earth collect her countless dead;

     Oh, may we all with pleasure hear,

       The bright Archangel's mandate clear.

     All hands, ahoy!

 

                             ‑‑ Anonymous

 

Note:  Reportedly written aboard CONSTITUTION in 1879, probably by one of her officers. 
Published in Stephen B. Luce's "Naval Songs."

 

The Captain’s Clerk
1989, TGM