Sir Henry John Newbolt (1862–1938)

HE gave us all a good-bye cheerily

At the first dawn of day;

We dropped him down the side full drearily

When the light died away.

It ’s a dead, dark watch that he ’s a-keeping there,

And a long, long night that lags a-creeping there,

Where the Trades and the tides roll over him

And the great ships go by.

He ’s there alone with green seas rocking him

For a thousand miles round;

He ’s there alone with dumb things mocking him,

And we’re homeward bound.

It ’s a long, lone watch that he ’s a-keeping there,

And a dead, cold night that lags a-creeping there,

While the months and the years roll over him

And the great ships go by.

I wonder if the tramps come near enough

As they thrash to and fro,

And the battle-ships’ bells ring clear enough

To be heard down below;

If through all the lone watch that he ’s a-keeping there,

And the long, cold night that lags a-creeping there,

The voices of the sailor-men shall comfort him

When the great ships go by.