gone, that good old man.
Way, high, Stormalong.
Ah, Stormy's gone, that good old man.
Aye, Aye, Mister Stormalong.
Of all the sailors
he was best;
But now he's dead and gone to rest.
He slipped his
cable off Cape Horn;
Close by the place where he was born.
moored at last and he's furled his sails;
He's free from wrecks and far from gales.
his grave with a silver spade;
Of the finest silk his shroud was made.
we lowered him down with a golden chain;
Each eye was dim but not with rain.
seaman bold an' true;
A good ol' skipper to his crew.
we'll sing his funeral song;
Oh, roll her over, long and strong.
fifty years he sailed the seas;
In winter gale and summer breeze.
so Ol' Stormy's day was done;
South fifty-six, west fifty-one.
Stormy was a seaman bold;
A grand ol' man o' the days of old.