He was an orphan and a waif,
Yet happy as a king,
And it was music to my soul
To hear him laugh and sing.
Yet happy as a king,
And it was music to my soul
To hear him laugh and sing.
The winds were fair and all went well
Until we struck a sea
Along the low Australian coast,
In latitude twenty-three.
Until we struck a sea
Along the low Australian coast,
In latitude twenty-three.
Where not a ripple stirred the brine
Or e'en a sail would fill,
Where all was brazen overhead
And all was deathly still.
Or e'en a sail would fill,
Where all was brazen overhead
And all was deathly still.
Three dreary days we sweltered there
Beneath that sky of brass,
Three weary days we floated there
Upon that sea of glass.
Beneath that sky of brass,
Three weary days we floated there
Upon that sea of glass.
Then suddenly from out the south
There grew a tiny speck,
"Haul in your canvas," roared the mate,
"Or we shall be a wreck!"
There grew a tiny speck,
"Haul in your canvas," roared the mate,
"Or we shall be a wreck!"
Old sailors sprang upon the yards
And quickly shortened sail,
And in a breath the vessel stood
Trimmed ready for the gale.
And quickly shortened sail,
And in a breath the vessel stood
Trimmed ready for the gale.
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