MOTHER CAREY
With the wind old Mother Carey,
Yo ho oh!
Churns the sea to make her dairy:
Yo ho oh!
When you see a storm a-brewin’,
Yo ho oh!
That is Mother Carey’s doin’:
Yo ho oh!
When you see Mother Carey’s chickens,
Yo ho oh!
Then look out to catch the dickens!
Yo ho oh!
When you hear the icebergs rattle,
Yo ho oh!
Those are Mother Carey’s cattle:
Yo ho oh!
When you see them split—a-halving,
Yo ho oh!
Then Mother Carey’s cows are calving:
Yo ho oh!
When you see a flying fish,
Yo ho oh!
Lose no time but make your wish:
Yo ho oh!
Irish pennons when they’re flying,
Yo ho oh!
Set old Mother Carey crying:
Yo ho oh!
When the sea-gulls dip for slush,
Yo ho oh!
Mother Carey stirs the mush:
Yo ho oh!
When one sea-gull follows you,
Yo ho oh!
Mother Carey soon makes it two:
Yo ho oh!
When the sea-gulls fly by two,
Yo ho oh!
Soon good luck will come to you:
Yo ho oh!
When the sea-gulls fly by threes,
Yo ho oh!
Soon you’ll have a spanking breeze:
Yo ho oh!
If seven follow you into port,
Yo ho oh!
There the sailors’ll have good sport:
Yo ho oh!
When a rope trails in the water,
Yo ho oh!
That is Mother Carey’s garter:
Yo ho oh!
When the clouds are red as roses,
Yo ho oh!
Those are Mother Carey’s posies:
Yo ho oh!
If you want to win your Mary,
Yo ho oh!
Throw out a biscuit to Mother Carey:
Yo ho oh!
And so they would have chantyd all night long,
But some one broke it with another song.
THE BIRD CREW
The Albatross
Is the captain and boss,
Haul away boys, haul away!
The sea-gull queers
Are the officeers,
Haul away boys, haul away!
And the Carey chickens as I guess
Is every one an A.B.S.,
Haul away boys, haul away!
“I’ve heard,” said Chapin, “many folk agree,
Those birds are souls of sailors lost at sea,
And often one around the vessel flies
To give us warning ere the storms arise.”
“Talkin’ of spirits in the vasty deep,”
Said Ezra Bullard, late of Marblehead,
“There’s one at least who never goes to sleep,
And mighty little good of him is said;
His special dispensation is to watch
The bottom of the ocean, and to see
It don’t fall out—for if it did we catch
The very direst kind of misery,
For all the water runnin’ through the hole
Would leave it dry as you can understand,
And from the Arctic to the ’tother pole,
’Twould be one thunderin’ lot of empty land.”
And thereupon in his south-wester tones
He let us have the song of Davy Jones.
DAVY JONES
Down in the sea among sand and stones,
There lives the old fellow called Davy Jones.
When storms come up he sighs and groans,
And that is the singing of Davy Jones.
His chest is full of dead men’s bones,
And that is the locker of Davy Jones.
Davy is Welsh you may hear by his tones,
For a regular Welsher is Davy Jones.
Whenever a fish gets drowned, he moans,
So tender-hearted is Davy Jones.
Thousands of ships the old man owns,
But none go a-sailing for Davy Jones.
“Well—since you talk o’ the bottom of the sea,”
Said Enoch Doolittle of Salem town,
“I know a yarn that beats you full and free,
Because, d’ye know, it takes you deeper down,
And if you’re taken down—of course you’re beat.”
“That’s so,” cried all, “so now your yarn repeat!”
“All right,” quoth Doolittle, “I’ll serve it hot,
Because, d’ye see, it’s called The Devil’s Pot.
But ’fore I dive into the salty brine,
Give me a gill of white New England wine!
Take one all round to benefit the pub.
Now for the bottom of the pickle tub.”
THE DEVIL’S POT[2]
There’s a place where you see the Atlantic heave
Like water boiling hot;
Where you come with grief and with joy you leave,
And they call it the Devil’s Pot.
Now there was a witch in the good old time,
And she had such power, they say,
Through rocks or stones or sand or lime,
She could always make her way.
One night on a broom she went with a whirr;
The devil he saw her fly,
And the devil he fell in love with her
As she went sailing by.
She flew like the devil to scape away,
And the devil so did he,
And she jumped from her broom without delay
And she dived to the bottom of the sea.
And she bored a hole when she got down,
And round and round she twirled,
And closed it behind as she went on,
Till she went straight through the world.
And the devil he dived in the water deep,
And he made it boil like pitch
As he roared and raved with many a leap,
But he never could find the witch.
And still he stirs it by night and day,
And seeks and finds her not;
And that is the reason, the sailors say,
Why it’s called the Devil’s Pot.
“They say that there are witches everywhere,”
Said Jones of Chesapeake, “a livin’ free;
Some in the rocks, some flyin’ in the air,
And some, in course, like fishes in the sea.
I’ve often heard strange voices in the night—
They wan’t no birds I’ll swer, nor any sitch—
One called me once by name; it gim’me fright—
And that I’m sartin was a water-witch.
One can’t in nat’ral wise account for that,
All you can call it is a Mr. E——
But there are witches, I will bet a hat;
And so I’ll sing the song of One, Two, Three,
Fust drinkin’ all your healths,”—no more he said,
But in a good round voice went straight ahead:
[2]The Devil’s Pot is a place on the North Atlantic route where, according to sailors, there is always bad weather.
[2]
The Devil’s Pot is a place on the North Atlantic route where, according to sailors, there is always bad weather.
ONE, TWO, THREE
I saw three witches as the wind blew cold
In a red light to the lee;
Bold they were and over-bold
As they sailed over the sea;
Calling for One, Two, Three!
Calling for One, Two, Three!
And I think I can hear
It a-ringing in my ear,
A-calling for the One, Two, Three.
And clouds came over the sky,
And the wind it blew hard and free,
And the waves grew bold and over-bold
As we sailed over the sea;
Howling for One, Two, Three!
Howling for their One, Two, Three!
Oh I think I can hear
It a-ringing in my ear,
A-howling for their One, Two, Three!
And the storm came roaring on,
Such a storm as I never did see,
And the storm it was bold and over-bold,
And as bad as a storm could be;
A-roaring for its One, Two, Three!
A-howling for its One, Two, Three!
Oh I think I can hear
It a-howling in my ear,
A-growling for its One, Two, Three!
And a wave came over the deck,
As big as a wave could be,
And it took away the captain and the mate and a man:
It had got the One, Two, Three!
And it went with the One, Two, Three!
Oh I think I can hear
It a-rolling in my ear,
As it went with the One, Two, Three.
This being cheered, I said, “Some time ago
I made a song in the Italian tongue
About a witch and pirate—which for you
Shall, if you like, be now in English sung.”
“No, give it first,” cried Saltonstall, “by jingo!
In its own nateral, Eyetalian lingo;
What I don’t know of it ain’t worth a cent;
Even to Rome I several times have went,
In Naples, too, I’ve had full many a turn
And know old Spartivento like a dern;
And most of us, I reckon—though we’re Yankee—
Can go the Dago, or somelingua frankey.
We ain’t so ignorant of what we know;
So go ahead, Signor—prestissimo!
Ef we don’t catch the sense ’twill be a pity.”—
So thus encouraged I began my ditty:
LA BELLA STREGA
Era una bella strega
Che si bagnava alla riva;
Vennero i pirati,
Lei presero captiva.
Il vento era in poppa,
Sull’onde la nave ballò,
La donna lacrimante
Al capitan parlò:
“O Signor Capitano!
O Capitan’ del mar!
Daro cento ducati
Se tu mi lasci andar!”
“Non prenderò cento ducati,
Tu costi molto più,
Io te vendrò al Sultano,”
Disse il Capitano
“Per mille zecchini d’oro
Vi stimi troppo giù.”
“Non vuoi i cento ducati.
Ebben, tu non gli avrai,
Ho un’amante amato
Non mi abbandona mai.”
Essa sedé sul ponte,
Principiò a cantar:
“Vieni il mio amante!”
Da lontano il vento
Si mette a mugghiar.
Forte e più forte
La tempesta ruggio:
Gridava il Capitano:
“Io credo che il tuo amante
E il vento che corre innante,
Ovvero il diavolo.”
Forte e più forte
La procella urlò:
“Sono roccie davanti,
E il vento vien di dietro,
Ben venuto sei tu, mio amante!”
La bella donna cantò.
“Vattene al tuo amante
All’inferno a cantar!”
Disse il Capitano,
E gettò la donna fuori
Della nave nel mar.
Ma come un gabbiano
Sull’onde essa volò:
“O mio Capitano!
Non sarai appiccato,
Ma sarai annegato;
Per sempre addio!”
“That’s derned good Dago,” cried Jack Saltonstall;
“Blamed ef I didn’t understand it all.
For the best songs are easiest understood:
Now then let’s hear if t’other side’s as good!
A song is like a bird—’cos birds do sing—
So carve us out the second breast and wing;
And with your anthem bid our hearts rejoice:”
Encouraged thus I lifted up my voice.
THE BEAUTIFUL WITCH
A pretty witch was bathing
By the beach one summer day;
There came a boat with pirates
Who carried her away.
The ship had a breeze behind her,
Over the waves went she!
“O Signor Capitano,
O Captain of the Sea!
I’ll give you a hundred ducats,
If you will set me free!”
“I will not take a hundred;
You’re worth much more, you know:
I’ll sell you to the Sultan
For a thousand golden sequins:
You put yourself far too low.”
“You will not take a hundred,
Very well then, let them be!
But I have a constant lover
Who, as you may discover,
Will never abandon me.”
On the deck, before the rover,
The witch began to sing:
“Oh come to me, my lover!”
And the wind as it stole over
Began to howl and ring.
Louder and ever louder
Became the tempest’s roar,
The captain in a passion
Thus at the lady swore:
“I believe that your windy lover
Is the devil and nothing more!”
Wilder and ever wilder
The tempest raged and rang,
“There are rocks ahead, and the wind dead aft,
Thank you, my love!” the lady laughed
As unto the wind she sang.
“Oh go with your cursed lover
Toinfernoto sing for me!”
So cried the angry captain,
And threw the lady over
To sink in the stormy sea.
But changing into a sea-gull
Over the waves she flew.
“O capitain, captain bold,” sang she,
“ ’Tis true you’ve missed the gallows tree,
But now you’ll drown in the foaming sea,
O captain, forever adieu!”
“Talkin’ of witches and magicianers,”
Cried out Jack Saltonstall of Newbury port,
“They are the devil’s own parishioners,
And I knew one of a peculiar sort,
Because he was a sailor—had he been
A lawyer, now, it wouldn’t seem so queer:
For conjurers ’mong us ain’t often seen,
And he was of the kind who ain’t small beer,
Possessing cash enough to roll in bliss:
However that may be, the story’sthis.”
THE WITCH’S BOX
Once when I went upon a trip
Likewise to the Southern sea,
We had a man upon the ship
And a wonderful man was he.
A handsomer man I never did spy,
At home or in any port;
But there was something in his eye
Of a most peculiar sort.
And all in Trinidado’s port
Was a woman fair and rich,
With her my messmate did consort,
And I heard she was a witch.
Her eyes, like his, had a greenish glare,
They seemed to be quite of a level,
And the general look of the loving pair
Was exactly the look of the devil.
Now when it was time to up and lift,
And the ship must leave the docks,
He came aboard with her parting gift,
A brown little wooden box.
Now this man had hardly a shirt to his back,
When he started on this trip,
And the mate declared that such a Jack
Was a regular shame to the ship.
Then this man he winked a dreadful wink,
And said to the mate, “I’ll be floored:
But I’ve got more clothes in my box, I think,
Than all of the men on board.”
Now his box was only one foot square,
And what was our surprise
When he opened it and pulled out a pair
Of shirts before our eyes!
Next came a hat and a jacket blue,
With trousers of the best,
For everything was nice and new,
And so on with all the rest.
And when he was drest, all spick and span,
We observed upon our oaths
That we didn’t believe even our old man
Had got such a suit of clothes.
Twenty-four hours arter, I heard him say,
And I thought it was very strange:
“I never wear my clothes but a day
And now it is time to change.
“I make you a gift on ’em fair and plain,
With a quid of tobacco to boot.”
Sayin’ this he opened his box again,
And pulled out another new suit.
And the same thing happened the very next day,
At about the very same bells,
He took off his second suit so gay,
And gave it to somebody else.
So it happened every day again,
Till he’d rigged us all from his store;
And such a dandy lot of men
Were never in a ship before.
Then we never had any scrimmages
For fear of spilin’ our slops:
We looked like the graven images
Before the tailors’ shops.
But a man named Knox from Edinboro toun,
Always took the thing amiss,
And often remarked with a doubtful frown:
“There is something eereligious in this!”
So one day when our friend had opened his box,
Before we could prevent,
Up behind him came Mr. Knox
And dropped in his New Testament.
There came a flash of lightning bright,
And an awful thunder’s roar,
And the box and the sailor went clean out o’ sight,
And we never beheld ’em more.
And all to ashes and all to wreck
Went our clothes, and we looked forlorn,
For there we were standing on the deck
As naked as we were born!
And this is the lesson short and small,
Which we learned from our liberal friend,
That the things which cost you nothing at all
Never come to any good in the end.
And when the laugh at this had died away,
Mose Brown of Bristol in the whaling line
Said: “Mermaids are the witches of the sea,
Which in good looks are really superfine.
And on this subject I will give a song,
Which I daresay you all already know,
But anyway it isn’t very long,
Though it was made a hundred years ago,
I guess that mermaids were much plentier then;
Perhaps they’re scared of steamboats and the swell
Which drives the fish as foxes do a hen—
So like the steamers I will now propel.”
THE MERMAID
One Friday morning we set sail[3]
It was not far from land,
When I espied a fair mermaid,
With a comb and a glass in her hand.
Chorus.And the raging winds do blow, blow, blow,
And the raging winds do blow;
And we poor sailors climbing up aloft,
And the land lubbers lying down below.
Then up spoke the boy of our gallant ship
And a well-spoken boy was he:
“I’ve a mother and father in London town,
And this night they will weep for me.”
Then up spoke the captain of our gallant ship,
And a well-spoken man was he:
“I’ve a wife who is living in Liverpool town,
A wife whom I never shall see.”
“My wife who is living in Liverpool town
This night will be looking for me;
She may look till the sun no more goes down,
She may look to the bottom of the sea.”
Then three times around went our gallant ship,
And three times around went she;
And three times around was the end of her trip,
When she sank to the bottom of the sea.