The Blue Bonnets o'er the Border/The Heaving of the Lead
THE HEAVING OF THE LEAD.
For England, when, with fav'ring gale,
Our gallant ship up channel steer'd—
And, scudding under easy sail,
The high blue western land appear'd;
To heave the lead, the seamen sprung,
And to the Pilot cheerly sung,
"By the deep—Nine.
And, bearing up—to gain the port.
Some well-known object kept in viewy;
At Abbey-tow'r, an Harbour-fort,
Or Beacon, to the vessel true;
While oft the lead the seaman dung,
And to the pilot cheerly sung,
"By the mark—Seven.
And as the much lov'd shore we near—
With transport we behold the roof,
Where dwelt a friend or partner friend,
Of faith and love a matchless proof:
The lead once more the seaman slung,
And to the watchful Pilot sung,
"Quarter less—Five!
Now to her birth the ship draws nigh,
We take in sail—she feels the tide;
"Stand clear the cable,—is the cry,
The anchor's gone, we safely ride.
The watch is set, and thro' the night,
We hear the seamen with delight,
Proclaim—"All's Well!