MARBLE POINT SONGS

The old Clipper days were jolly, when we sailed the Seven Seas, And the house-flags of our merchant ships were whipped by every breeze; It Nvas good-by to your mother and the pretty girls On shore, For we're oft annum, the howling Horn, hound down to Singapore. We romped the rushing trade-winds and we raced the big monsoon; We carried reeling royals from Manila to Rangoon: We were chased by Malay pirates from Natura to Penang, And we drove her scuppers under to outsail the cut-throat gang. We went rolling in "The Doldrums" till the tar oozed from our seams; We went pushing through the ice-pack till the pressure cracked our beams: And old Mother Carey's chicken's wheeled around us o'er the brine, While we entertained Old Neptune when he hailed up on the line. Those were days to be remembered, when our good ship sailed away, From the old home port behind us, to Calcutta or Bombay; When we sold the Heathen nations rum and opium in rolls, And the Missionaries went along to save their sinful souls. It was "Bundle out, my bullies, and we'll give the sheets a pull;" It was "Ease her off a. little, till the topsails stand rap full:" It was "Scrub the decks, my Jac-Ides, and we'll take the sun at noon;" It was "Sou-sou'-west-half south, my boy," beneath the southern moon. We raced across to Africa with "dicker" in the hold; We traded beads and calico for ivory and gold; We raised the Northern Dipper as we sunk the Southern Cross, And when we figured up the run the owners felt no loss. Then 'twas "Home again, my bullies," with our bows knee-deep in foam To the mother that was waiting and the happy ones at home; It was home from old Calcutta or Hong-Kong or far Bombay, To the land we loved to think of when our hearts were far away.

OH, again to hear the Lasears' rousing "chanty" in the morn, When we broke away the anchor to sail home around the Horn! Oh, to see the white sails pulling, feel the lift. beneath the keel, With the trade-wind's gush behind her and the roll that made her reel! The old Clipper days are over and the white-winged fleets no more, With their snowy sails unfolded, fly along the ocean floor; Where their house-flags used to flutter in the ocean winds unfurled, Now the kettle-bellied cargo tubs go reeling round the world. But Ins jolly while it lasted, and the sailor was a man; And it's good-by to the Lascar and the tar with face of tan; And it's good-by mother, once for all, and good-by girls on shore; And it's good-by brave old Clipper-Ship that sails the seas no more!