While High the Foaming Urges Rise

While high the foaming surges rise, And pointed rocks appear, Loud thunders rattle in the skies, Yet sailors must not fear. In storms, in wind, Their duty mind; Aloft, below, They cheerful go, To reef or steer, as 'tis design'd, No fear or dangers fill the mind.

The signal for the line is made, The haughty foe's in sight; The bloody flag's aloft display'd, And fierce the dreadful fight. Each minds his gun, No dangers shun; Aloft, below, They cheerful go, Tho' thunders roar, yet still we find No fears alarm the sailor's mind.

The storm is hush'd, the battle's o'er, The sky is clear again; We toss the cann to those on shore, While we are on the main. To Poll and Sue, Sincere and true; The grog goes round, With pleasure crown'd. In war or peace, alike you'll find, That honor fills the sailor's mind.