poems
Poems
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.
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