Stormalong

Oh, Stormy, he is dead an’ gone.
To me way, you Stormalong!
Oh, Stormy wuz a good ol’ man.
Ay! Ay! Ay! Mister Stormalong!

He slipped his cable off Cape Horn,
Close by the place where he was born.

We dug his grave with a silver spade,
An’ there at rest ol’ Stormy laid.

We lowered him down with a golden chain,
Our eyes all dim with more than rain.

An able seaman bold an’ true,
A good ol’ skipper to his crew.

He’s moored at last an’ furled his sail,
No danger now from wreck or gale.

Ol’ Stormy loved a sailor’s song,
His voice wuz rough an’ tough an’ strong.

For fifty years he sailed the seas,
In winter’s gale an’ summer’s breeze.

But now ol’ Stormy’s day is done,
We marked the spot where he is gone.

An’ so ol’ Stormy’s day was done,
South fifty-six, west fifty-one.

Oh, Stormy’s dead an’ gone to rest,
Of all the sailors he wuz best.

I wish I wuz ol’ Stormy’s son,
I’d build me a ship both stout an’ strong.

I’d build a ship of a thousand ton,
An’ give me sailors lots o’ rum.