WE’LL GO TO SEA NO MORE
Anonymous Sea Chantey

Oh blithely shines the bonnie sun
Upon the isle of May,
And blithely comes the morning tide
Into St. Andrew’s Bay.
Then up, gude-man, the breeze is fair,
And up, my braw bairns three;
There’s gold in yonder bonnie boat
That sails so well the sea!
When life’s last sun goes feebly down
And death comes to our door,
When all the world’s a dream to us,
We’ll go to the sea no more.



At one end of a spectrum, might be the Sea Chantey's that have passed from generation to generation of sea-going folk for centuries. This is only one verse of a much longer piece.