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"Larboard Watch."


At dreary midnight's cheerless hour,
Deserted e'en by Cynthia's beams,
When tempests beat and torrents pour,
And twinkling stars no longer gleam,
The wearied sailor, spent with toil,
Clings firmly to the weather shrouds,
And still the lengthened hour to guile,
Sings as he views the gathering clouds,
Larboard Watch, a-hoy!

Chorus — But who can speak the joy he feels,
While o'er the foam his vessel reels,
And his tir'd eye-lids slumbering fall,
He rouses at the welcome call
Of Larboard Watch a-hoy!


With anxious care he eyes each wave,
That, swelling, threatens to o'erwhelm,
And his storm beaten bark to save,
Directs with skill the faithful helm.
With joy he drinks the cheering grog
Mid storms that bellow loud and hoarse,
With joy he heaves the reeling log,
And marks the leeway and the course.
Larboard Watch, a-hoy!