A Land Shanty
Sou' sou' east, with the course set fair
Heave ho, me hearties!
On the Geelong road we're cruisin' there
Seven tars with ne'er a care
Heave ho, me hearties!
When up speaks Bill of trouble aft;
But the bos'n grinned and the skipper laughed;
An' 'e sez, 'We'll trust the queer ole craft
Heave ho, me hearties!'
Stuns'ls, mains'ls, all were set
Heave ho, me hearties!
An' the fust mate sez, 'We'll make port yet,
For the seas are smooth, so don't you fret
Heave ho, me hearties!'
But the steersman sez, 'I doubt her feel,
For she ain't responding to the wheel,
An' I got me doubts of 'r starboard keel
But heave ho, me hearties!'
There weren't no sea, tho' thegale was stiff
Heave ho, me hearties!
When this mad ole, bad ole dry land skiff
Is a total loss in 'arf a jiff
Heave ho, me hearties!
'Dry land,' the skipper sez, sez 'e,
'Is a 'ard, 'ard spot; give me the sea.'
An' so in 'ospital, sez we
With a heave ho, me hearties.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
96
if i heave a sigh, what will i do with what i did not heave?
if i heave a sigh
into the air, and i keep some other more inside myself,
unconsumed, unspent,
what will i do with it?
keep it
like a secret in my closed fingers and pretend i am angry
with this clenched fist
when in truth i have nothing
no plan of keeping things that long because my arms
my soon go
into the river and be lost floating like a log from a hill?
i heave a sigh, that is enough relief,
i am emptied of something heavy
in my nose
i become an island losing air
but keeping sand and
stones
to keep my balance with the coconut trees
still
making landmarks to lost directions,
but it is my way of making my senses alive
i heave a sigh
and i want you to really hear it at a very close distance
just you and me
for you to know where i have situated myself
in this vast
nothingness,
i am here, touch me,
i am warm, i am fire,
you have been taking the forms of water
cold, damp,
having the face of the night, where the moon lost its light,
what are you doing to me?
i am taking you but you are the one taking me nowhere
i am lost by your promises
of a raft
i lost track of your waft, and here i am lost again as i
heave a sigh, deeper
this time....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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South Australia
In South Australia I was born
Heave away, Haul away
In South Australia 'round Cape Horn
We're bound for South Australia
Haul away your rolling king
Heave away, Haul away
Haul away oh hear me sing
We're bound for South Australia
As I walked out one morning fair
Heave away, Haul away
'Twas there I met Miss Nancy Blair
We're bound for South Australia
There's just one thing that's on my mind
Heave away, Haul away
That's leaving Nancy Blair behind
We're bound for South Australia
And as we wallop round Cape Horn
Heave away, Haul away
You'll wish to God you've never been born
We're bound for South Australia
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heaven For Everyone
Words and music by roger taylor
This could be heaven
This could be heaven
This could be heaven for everyone
In these days of cool reflection
You come to me and everything seems alright
In these days of cold affections
You sit by me - and everythings fine
This could be heave for everyone
This world could be fed, this world could be fun
This could be heaven for everyone
This world could be free, this world could be one
In this world of cool deception
Just your smile can smooth my ride
These troubled days of cruel rejection, hmm
You come to me, soothe my troubled mind
Yeah, this could be heave for everyone
This world could be fed, this world could be fun
This could be heaven for everyone, yeah
This world should be free, this world could be one
We should bring love to our daughters and sons
Love, love, love, this could be heaven for everyone
You know that
This could be heave for everyone
This could be heave for everyone
Listen - what people do to their souls
They take their lives - destroy their goals
Their basic pride and dignity
Is stripped and torn and shown to pity
When this should be heaven for everyone
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On a Fair Morning as I Came by the Way
On a fair morning, as I came by the way,
Met I with a merry maid in the merry month of May,
When a sweet love sings his lovely lay,
And every bird upon the bush bechirps it up so gay.
With a heave and ho! with a heave and ho!
Thy wife shall be thy master, I trow.
Sing care away, care away, let the world go!
Hey, lustily, all in a row, all in a row,
Sing care away, care away, let the world go!
poem by Thomas Morley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If I Heave A Sigh, What Will I Do With What I Did Not Heave?
if i heave a sigh
into the air, and i keep some other more inside myself,
unconsumed, unspent,
what will i do with it?
keep it
like a secret in my closed fingers and pretend i am angry
with this clenched fist
when in truth i have nothing
no plan of keeping things that long because my arms
my soon go
into the river and be lost floating like a log from a hill?
i heave a sigh, that is enough relief,
i am emptied of something heavy
in my nose
i become an island losing air
but keeping sand and
stones
to keep my balance with the coconut trees
still
making landmarks to lost directions,
but it is my way of making my senses alive
i heave a sigh
and i want you to really hear it at a very close distance
just you and me
for you to know where i have situated myself
in this vast
nothingness,
i am here, touch me,
i am warm, i am fire,
you have been taking the forms of water
cold, damp,
having the face of the night, where the moon lost its light,
what are you doing to me?
i am taking you but you are the one taking me nowhere
i am lost by your promises
of a raft
i lost track of your waft, and here i am lost again as i
heave a sigh, deeper
this time....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ballad of Cockatoo Dock
Of all the docks upon the blue
There was no dockyard, old or new,
To touch the dock at Cockatoo.
Of all the ministerial clan
There was no nicer, worthier man
Than Admiral O'Sullivan.
Of course, we mean E. W.
O'Sullivan, the hero who
Controlled the dock at Cockatoo.
To workmen he explained his views --
"You need not toil unless you choose,
Your only work is drawing screws."
And sometimes to their great surprise
When votes of censure filled the skies
He used to give them all a rise.
"What odds about a pound or two?"
Exclaimed the great E. W.
O'Sullivan at Cockatoo.
The dockyard superintendent, he
Was not at all what he should be --
He sneered at all this sympathy.
So when he gave a man the sack
O'Sullivan got on his track
And straightway went and fetched him back.
And with a sympathetic tear
He'd say, "How dare you interfere,
You most misguided engineer?
"Your sordid manners please amend --
No man can possibly offend
Who has a Member for a friend.
"With euchre, or a friendly rub,
And whisky, from the nearest 'pub',
We'll make the dockyard like a club.
"Heave ho, my hearties, play away,
We'll do no weary work today.
What odds -- the public has to pay!
"And if the public should complain
I'll go to Broken Hill by train
To watch McCarthy making rain."
And there, with nothing else to do
No doubt the great E. W.
Will straightway raise McCarthy's screw.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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The Fisher Child's Lullaby
THE wind is out in its rage to-night,
And your father is far at sea.
The rime on the window is hard and white
But dear, you are near to me.
Heave ho, weave low,
Waves of the briny deep;
Seethe low and breathe low,
But sleep you, my little one, sleep, sleep.
The little boat rocks in the cove no more,
But the flying sea-gulls wail;
I peer through the darkness that wraps the shore,
For sight of a home set sail.
Heave ho, weave low,
Waves of the briny deep;
Seethe low and breathe low,
But sleep you, my little one, sleep, sleep.
Ay, lad of mine, thy father may die
In the gale that rides the sea,
But we'll not believe it, not you and I,
Who mind us of Galilee.
Heave ho, weave low,
Waves of the briny deep;
Seethe low and breathe low,
But sleep you, my little one, sleep, sleep.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Roll Along Home!
I though I heard the old man say -
'Aye, aye, roll along home! -
Bound home for old England we're sailing to-day -
Heave up the anchor and roll along home!
The pilot's aboard and the capstan is manned,
Blue Peter's a-waving farewell to the land,
For after long waiting our orders have come
To heave up the anchor and roll along home -
Roll - roll along home!'
The sails they are bent and the cargo is stowed -
Aye, aye, roll along home! -
And far will her way be and lonely her road -
Shake out the topsails and roll along home!
Yes, long is the road through the storm and the shine
That brings me back home to you, true love of mine;
No longer I'll wander, no further I'll roam,
But shake out my topsails and roll along home -
Roll - roll along home!'
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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Anchor Song
Heh! Walk her round. Heave, ah heave her short again!
Over, snatch her over, there, and hold her on the pawl.
Loose all sail, and brace your yards back and full --
Ready jib to pay her off and heave short all!
Well, ah fare you well; we can stay no more with you, my love --
Down, set down your liquor and your girl from off your knee;
For the wind has come to say:
"You must take me while you may,
If you'd go to Mother Carey
(Walk her down to Mother Carey!),
Oh, we're bound to Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea!"
Heh! Walk her round. Break, ah break it out o' that!
Break our starboard-bower out, apeak, awash, and clear.
Port -- port she casts, with the harbour-mud beneath her foot,
And that's the last o' bottom we shall see this year!
Well, ah fare you well, for we've got to take her out again --
Take her out in ballast, riding light and cargo-free.
And it's time to clear and quit
When the hawser grips the bitt,
So we'll pay you with the foresheet and a promise from the sea!
Heh! Tally on. Aft and walk away with her!
Handsome to the cathead, now; O tally on the fall!
Stop, seize and fish, and easy on the davit-guy.
Up, well up the fluke of her, and inboard haul!
Well, ah fare you well, for the Channel wind's took hold of us,
Choking down our voices as we snatch the gaskets free.
And it's blowing up for night,
And she's dropping Light on Light,
And she's snorting under bonnets for a breath of open sea,
Wheel, full and by; but she'll smell her road alone to-night.
Sick she is and harbour-sick -- O sick to clear the land!
Roll down to Brest with the old Red Ensign over us --
Carry on and thrash her out with all she'll stand!
Well, ah fare you well, and it's Ushant slams the door on us,
Whirling like a windmill through the dirty scud to lee:
Till the last, last flicker goes
From the tumbling water-rows,
And we're off to Mother Carey
(Walk her down to Mother Carey!),
Oh, we're bound for Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Seas of England
The seas of England are our old delight:
Let the loud billow of the shingly shore
Sing freedom on her breezes evermore
To all earth’s ships that sailing heave in sight!
The gaunt sea-nettle be our fortitude,
Sturdily blowing where the clear wave sips;
O, be the glory of our men and ships
Rapturous, woe unheeding hardihood!
There is great courage in a land that hath
Liberty guarded by the unearthly seas;
And ev’n to find peace at the last in these
How many a sailor hath sailed down to death!
Their names are like a splendour in an old song;
Their record shines like bays along the years;
Their jubilation is the cry man hears
Sailing sun-fronted the vast deeps among.
The seas of England are our old delight:
Let the loud billow of the shingly shore
Sing freedom on her breezes evermore
To all earth’s ships that sailing heave in sight!
poem by Walter de la Mare
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Deep in Hell
Easy paths molest
Those in perdition, the Hell,
The Reality.
One road to the Heave
Classes your anxiety
For it is holding.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Safe And Sound
My name is Nunty Cormorant
And my finance is sound,
I lend you Englishmen hot air
At one and three the pound.
I lend you Englishmen hot air
And I get all the beef
While you stalwart sheep of freedom
Are on the poor relief.
Wot oh! my buxom hearties,
What ain't got work no more
And don't know what bug is a-bitin'
To keep your feelin's sore,
There is blokes in automobiles
And their necks sunk into fur
That keep on gettin' usury
To make 'em cosier.
I read these fellers puts it
Most tidily away
And then lends out their printed slips
To keep the wolf away
From the vaults and combination
Safes in Thread and Needle street.
I wouldn't 'ave the needle
If I had more grub to eat.
Oh the needle is your portion,
My sufferin' fellow men,
Till the King shall take the notion
To own his coin again.
poem by Ezra Pound
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I have never done a thriller, and it will just be really fun for me to heave and pant and run and climb and break windows and scream every once in a while.
quote by Kate Hudson
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Untitled 9
something is heavy
i cannot lift it myself
on such a tense
situation as this
when everything seems
to be pointing at you
with all disfavor
your sigh
heave it yourself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Mad Electrician
i heave
a big sigh
to compose
this,
this is the story
of the death
of a mad
electrician
he electrocuted
himself
and the sad thing is that
nobody
minded.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hushing Hushing
the usual land
escape of pyramid roof
touching the sky
heave
in space and sip
in lights of stars
i am
happier and enjoying
things that
are far
away from me
you
wonder how this is possible
on empty arms
on hearts without
head
ing my way out the en
closures
of too much love that is kill
ing me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Scudding clouds heave hope
Heaven-blessed pour on them
Wedding day special
haiku by Indira Renganathan
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The Bold Princess Royal
O on the fourteenth day of February we sailed from the land
In the bold Princess Royal bound for Newfoundland.
We had forty bright sailors for our ship's companie,
And boldly from the eastward to the westward sailed we.
We had not been sailing scarce days two or three
When our man from the masthead a sail he did see.
She bore down upon us to see what we were,
When from under her mizzen black colours she wore.
My God cries our Captain what shall we do now
For there comes a bold pirate to rob us I know.
O no, cries our chief mate it cannot be so
For we'll spread out our reef boys and from her we'll go.
And when this bold pirate came up alongside
Through a loudspeaking trumpet he said 'Who are you?'
Our Captain walked the quarterdeck and he answered him so
'We come from fair London and we're bound for Cairo.'
Then draw up your courses and heave your ship to
For I've got a letter. I'll send on by you.
We'll draw up our courses and heave our ship to
But it will be in some harbour not alongside of you.
He chased us to windward for all that long day
He chased us to windward and night and a day
He chased us to windward but could not prevail
Whilst the bold Princess Royal did show them her tail.
Thank God cries our captain, since the pirate has gone
'Bring a cask of good brandy, fore and aft let it run.
Go down to your grog boys, and be of good cheer,
As long as we've sea-room my boys never fear
poem by Robert Burns
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Darkness
when you arrive
you caress my hair
and kiss my nape
and i face you
heave a sigh
and send a stare
categorically saying
that i do no like
you anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Caked In Dust
Nit picking is your 'special' gift.
And you snicker when you wish to needle.
Knowing it annoys a bit.
I'm bottled up.
You don't seem to know when it's enough.
I wish I could adhesive tape,
The flow of the rushing stuff...
I would love to hush up.
I'm bottled up.
And feeling like I'm sinking in a tub.
Corrupted by the notion this is love.
But the love I felt is caked in dust...
And pains me in the gut.
I'm bottled up.
And feeling pricked, nit picked and needled.
Bottled up.
Like a pin stuck through a beetle.
Bottled up!
And feeling pricked, nit picked and needled.
And this sickens me to heave...
Too weakened I am I can't leave.
I'm bottled up.
And feeling pricked, nit picked and needled.
Bottled up.
Like a pin stuck through a beetle.
Bottled up!
And feeling pricked, nit picked and needled.
And this sickens me to heave...
Too weakened I am I can't leave.
I'm bottled up.
Too weakened I am I can't leave.
And I know this gives you pleasing relief!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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