Sing of the settlers, the growers of grain.
Who bravely bring forth the fruits of the plain
And fill up our hulks of hand-hewn oak-hearts,
Gold seas of grain heaping over the thwarts.
Fie! on fell locusts that lightened our load.
Gossamer gluttons like reapers they mowed.
Haul away, brothers, now, haul away home.
Sing of those storms which drove off that hell-spawn.
Misguided musers saw flying white bison:
Snowy manes rising, white wings high spreading,
Terrible tail of wild white winds spinning.
Stayed by that storm, the locusts did yield,
swept from the sky and flung from the field.
Haul away, brothers, now, haul away home.
Sing of that sailor, stout-heart and stoic
Her Maj's Admiral, highly heroic,
No mountain can halt. No river can hold.
You'll find not a fault. He's quite brave and bold.
West his upbringing, wild his sword swinging,
So is his singing, prose so annoying.
Haul away, brothers, now, haul away home.
See there rapids where the barons were bruised.
They halted all traffic, taxed cargos and crews
Till that bold sailor brought up his brave fleet.
And battered the barons, those robbers of wheat.
The enemy flees, now everyone sees
Who rules the seas and who runs for the trees
Haul away, brothers, now, haul away home.
[ OK, a couple more silly verses, mostly for Mathurin ]
Sing of the sea shires that sail off to glory,
Keep clear the sea lanes for shipping our Ivory.
Sails like great tents that strain on the boom
And bend in broad crescents like that of the moon.
That captain courageous and finder of lost moors
Shall shiver the timbers of barons in wars.
Haul away, brothers, now, haul away home.
Says the wise sailor with shovel and swagger,
"Boy, it's dark, and deep runs this river.
Needs here a levy to lessen the flood
And ditches to drain off and decrease the mud!
The shadowy dale where grass sways and swishes
Needs farm-ponds for folk that wishes for fishes!"
Haul away, brothers, now, haul away home.