Scilly

The bells of Cadiz clashed for them When they sailed away; The Citadel guns, saluting, crashed for them Over the Bay; With banners of saints aloft unfolding, Their poops a glitter of golden moulding, Tambours throbbing and trumpets neighing, Into the sunset they went swaying. But the port they sought they wandered wide of, And they won't see Spain again this side of Judgment Day.

For they're down, deep down, in Dead Man's Town, Twenty fathoms under the clean green waters. No more hauling sheets in the rolling treasure fleets, No more stinking rations and dread red slaughters; No galley oars shall bow them nor shrill whips cow them, Frost shall not shrivel them nor the hot sun smite, No more watch to keep, nothing now but sleep— Sleep and take it easy in the long twilight.

The bells of Cadiz tolled for them Mournful and glum; Up in the Citadel requiems rolled for them On the black drum; Priests had many a mass to handle, Nuestra Señora many a candle, And many a lass grew old in praying For a sight of those topsails homeward swaying— But it's late to wait till a girl is bride of A Jack who won't be back this side of Kingdom Come.

But little they care down there, down there, Hid from time and tempest by the jade-green waters; They have loves a-plenty down at fathom twenty, Pearly-skinned silver-finned mer-kings' daughters. At the gilt quarter-ports sit the Dons at their sports, A-dicing and drinking the red wine and white, While the crews forget their wrongs in the sea-maids' songs And dance upon the foc'sles in the grey ghost light.