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Squaring the Yards

 
 
Drag the yards ‘round, lads, with a yo-ho!
Lug the beggars ‘round.
Mark the heads’ill pull, lads!  Sure, an’ they must know
We’re runnin’ for the little port between the hills of snow.
 
Tail along the brace, lads.  Yo-ho—Heave all—
Pull together!
Th’ Skipper’s on the poop, lads, hark’nin’ to the call,
With one eye on the compass an’ t’other on the squall.
 
Bend your backs as one, lads.  Yo-ho—Heave away—
Snatch her ‘round!
Ahead, the eternal ocean is smokin’ white an’ gray,
And we’ll be sightin’ Signal Hill afore Saint Patrick’s Day.
 
Pull the yards ’round, lads, with a yo-ho!
Lug the fors’il ’round. Let the scuppers slobber an’ let the tempest
       blow—
Let the wrack to win’ward churn the sea below—
Lads, we’re home-bound!
Other works by Theodore Goodridge Roberts...



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