Classic Poem

As we lay musing in our beds,
So well and so warm at ease,
I thought upon those lodging beds
Poor seamen have at seas.

Last Easter Day in the morning fair
We was not far from land,
Where we spied a mermaid on a rock,
With comb and glass in hand.

The first came up the mate of our ship,
With lead and line in hand,
To sound and see how deep we was
From any rock or sand.

The next came up the boatswain of our ship,
With courage stout and bold:
"Stand fast, stand fast, my brave, lively lads.
Stand fast, my brave hearts of gold.'

Our gallant ship has gone to wreck,
Which was so lately trimmed;
The raging seas have sprung a leak,
And the salt water does run in.

Our gold and silver, and all our clothes,
And all that ever we had,
We forcèd was to heave them overboard,
Thinking our lives to save.

In all the number that was on board
Was five hundred and sixty-four,
And all that ever came alive on shore
There was but poor ninety-five.

The first bespoke the captain of our ship,
And a well-spoke man was he:
"I have a wife in fair Plymouth town,
And a widow I fear she must be.'

The next bespoke the mate of our ship,
And a well-bespoke man was he:
"I have a wife in fair Portsmouth town,
And a widow I fear she must be.'

The next bespoke the boatswain of our ship,
And a well-bespoke man was he:
"I have a wife in fair Exeter,
And a widow I fear she must be.'

The next bespoke the little cabin boy,
And a well-bespoke boy was he:
"I am as sorry for my mother dear
As you are for your wives all three.

"Last night when the moon shined bright
My mother had sons five,
But now she may look in the salt seas
And find but one alive.'

"Call a boat, call a boat, you little Plymouth boys,
Don't you hear how the trumpet sound?
For the want of a boat our gallant ship is lost,
And the most of our merry men drowned.'

Whilst the raging seas do roar,
And the lofty winds do blow,
And we poor seamen do lie on the top,
Whilst the landmen lies below.