Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Musician's Tale; The Ballad of Carmilhan - II.
The jolly skipper paused awhile,
And then again began;
'There is a Spectre Ship,' quoth he,
'A ship of the Dead that sails the sea,
And is called the Carmilhan.
'A ghostly ship, with a ghostly crew,
In tempests she appears;
And before the gale, or against the gale,
She sails without a rag of sail,
Without a helmsman steers.
'She haunts the Atlantic north and south,
But mostly the mid-sea,
Where three great rocks rise bleak and bare
Like furnace-chimneys in the air,
And are called the Chimneys Three.
'And ill betide the luckless ship
That meets the Carmilhan;
Over her decks the seas will leap,
She must go down into the deep,
And perish mouse and man.'
The captain of the Valdemar
Laughed loud with merry heart.
'I should like to see this ship,' said he;
'I should like to find these Chimneys Three,
That are marked down in the chart.
'I have sailed right over the spot,' he said
'With a good stiff breeze behind,
When the sea was blue, and the sky was clear,--
You can follow my course by these pinholes here,--
And never a rock could find.'
And then he swore a dreadful oath,
He swore by the Kingdoms Three,
That, should he meet the Carmilhan,
He would run her down, although he ran
Right into Eternity!
All this, while passing to and fro,
The cabin-boy had heard;
He lingered at the door to hear,
And drank in all with greedy ear,
And pondered every word.
He was a simple country lad,
But of a roving mind.
'Oh, it must be like heaven,' thought he,
'Those far-off foreign lands to see,
And fortune seek and find!'
But in the fo'castle, when he heard
The mariners blaspheme,
He thought of home, he thought of God,
And his mother under the churchyard sod,
And wished it were a dream.
One friend on board that ship had he;
T was the Klaboterman,
Who saw the Bible in his chest,
And made a sign upon his breast,
All evil things to ban.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Musician's Tale; The Ballad of Carmilhan - IV.
And now along the horizon's edge
Mountains of cloud uprose,
Black as with forests underneath,
Above their sharp and jagged teeth
Were white as drifted snows.
Unseen behind them sank the sun,
But flushed each snowy peak
A little while with rosy light
That faded slowly from the sight
As blushes from the cheek.
Black grew the sky,--all black, all black;
The clouds were everywhere;
There was a feeling of suspense
In nature, a mysterious sense
Of terror in the air.
And all on board the Valdemar
Was still as still could be;
Save when the dismal ship-bell tolled,
As ever and anon she rolled,
And lurched into the sea.
The captain up and down the deck
Went striding to and fro;
Now watched the compass at the wheel,
Now lifted up his hand to feel
Which way the wind might blow.
And now he looked up at the sails,
And now upon the deep;
In every fibre of his frame
He felt the storm before it came,
He had no thought of sleep.
Eight bells! and suddenly abaft,
With a great rush of rain,
Making the ocean white with spume,
In darkness like the day of doom,
On came the hurricane.
The lightning flashed from cloud to cloud,
And rent the sky in two;
A jagged flame, a single jet
Of white fire, like a bayonet_
That pierced the eyeballs through.
Then all around was dark again,
And blacker than before;
But in that single flash of light
He had beheld a fearful sight,
And thought of the oath he swore.
For right ahead lay the Ship of the Dead,
The ghostly Carmilhan!
Her masts were stripped, her yards were bare,
And on her bowsprit, poised in air,
Sat the Klaboterman.
Her crew of ghosts was all on deck
Or clambering up the shrouds;
The boatswain's whistle, the captain's hail,
Were like the piping of the gale,
And thunder in the clouds.
And close behind the Carmilhan
There rose up from the sea,
As from a foundered ship of stone,
Three bare and splintered masts alone:
They were the Chimneys Three.
And onward dashed the Valdemar
And leaped into the dark;
A denser mist, a colder blast,
A little shudder, and she had passed
Right through the Phantom Bark.
She cleft in twain the shadowy hulk,
But cleft it unaware;
As when, careering to her nest,
The sea-gull severs with her breast
The unresisting air.
Again the lightning flashed; again
They saw the Carmilhan,
Whole as before in hull and spar;
But now on board of the Valdemar
Stood the Klaboterman.
And they all knew their doom was sealed;
They knew that death was near;
Some prayed who never prayed before,
And some they wept, and some they swore,
And some were mute with fear.
Then suddenly there came a shock,
And louder than wind or sea
A cry burst from the crew on deck,
As she dashed and crashed, a hopeless wreck,
Upon the Chimneys Three.
The storm and night were passed, the light
To streak the east began;
The cabin-boy, picked up at sea,
Survived the wreck, and only he,
To tell of the Carmilhan.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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When My Ship Comes In
No sun on the rockies, not even the light of day
I feel that old cabin fever coming on
But I know where Ill be when lady luck finally blows my way
Shell put the wind in my sails and Ill be gone
It wont be long before my ship comes in
Gonna sail right out of colorado
Catch a ride on a warm trade wind to puerta no-one-knows
Shell find me waiting when my ship comes in
Gonna board and go whichever way the wind blows
Ill be off to find myself once again in puerta no-one-knows
When my ship comes in
Maybe Im only dreaming but it sure seems real
Somehow the wind doesnt chill quite to the bone
Or could it just be the fever Im running on an uneven keel
Not losing sight of why Im up here alone
Chorus
It wont be long before my ship comes in
Shell find me waiting when my ship comes in
It wont be long before my ship comes in
Shell find me waiting when my ship comes in
When my ship comes in
song performed by by Clint Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ship Of Fools
Went to see the captain, strangest I could find,
Laid my proposition down, laid it on the line.
I wont slave for beggars pay, likewise gold and jewels,
But I would slave to learn the way to sink your ship of fools.
Ship of fools on a cruel sea, ship of fools sail away from me.
It was later than I thought when I first believed you,
Now I cannot share your laughter, ship of fools.
Saw your first ship sink and drown, from rockin of the boat,
And all that could not sink or swim was just left there to float.
I wont leave you drifting down, but woh it makes me wild,
With thirty years upon my head to have you call me child.
Ship of fools on a cruel sea, ship of fools sail away from me.
It was later than I thought when I first believed you,
Now I cannot share your laughter, ship of fools.
The bottles stand as empty, as they were filled before.
Time there was and plenty, but from that cup no more.
Though I could not caution all, I still might warn a few:
Dont lend your hand to raise no flag atop no ship of fools.
Ship of fools on a cruel sea, ship of fools sail away from me.
It was later than I thought, when I first believed you,
Now I cannot share your laughter, ship of fools.
It was later than I thought when I first believed you,
Now I cannot share your laughter, ship of fools.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Abandon Ship!
I'd like to get off this ship
That you're sailing into heavy seas,
You won't listen to my warning,
So you must do as you please.
This 'ship' is our relation-ship
And you're heading for a reef,
Our friend-ship will be wrecked
In a storm of pain and grief!
What am I going to do,
Dear Captain of my heart?
I never dreamt it possible
That you and I would part.
You look at me so quizzically,
Your smile turns to a frown....
Get off this ship at once
Or you and I will drown!
I've tried so hard to make you see
The folly of your ways,
The nights have been so desolate,
So comfortless the days.
I thought you really cared for me,
A true and loyal friend,
The sun is setting in the West
And soon our Day will end.
Abandon ship or change your course
Before it is too late -
I can't believe your attitude,
What an evil, bitter fate! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Let Her Go Down
Sometime in October
we sailed from England's shore
When we sailed into a raging storm
like I never ever seen before
And all of the crew they were brave men
but the captain he was braver
and he said
"Never mind the ship me boys
There's none of us here can save her"
Let her go down Swim for your lives
Swim for your children swim for your wives
Let her go down Let her go down
Lost in the open ocean
there was some of the crew and me
while the captain steered our wounded ship
to the bottom of an angry sea
And with his dying breath
we all heard him say
"It's just the fortune of sailor"
and he said
"Never mind the ship me boys
There's none of us here can save her"
chorus
He wondered if his shipmates
were ready to just pray and give in
so he called their names out one by one
but there was no one else around but him
He saw the ship go down the fading light
and he knew that they could have saved her
He said
"The captain lied when the captain cried
'There's none of us here can save her' "
chorus
Swim for your lives
Swim for your children swim for your wives
Let her go down Let her go down
Swim for your lives
song performed by by Hollies
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Aboard At A Ship's Helm
ABOARD, at a ship's helm,
A young steersman, steering with care.
A bell through fog on a sea-coast dolefully ringing,
An ocean-bell--O a warning bell, rock'd by the waves.
O you give good notice indeed, you bell by the sea-reefs ringing,
Ringing, ringing, to warn the ship from its wreck-place.
For, as on the alert, O steersman, you mind the bell's admonition,
The bows turn,--the freighted ship, tacking, speeds away under her
gray sails,
The beautiful and noble ship, with all her precious wealth, speeds
away gaily and safe.
But O the ship, the immortal ship! O ship aboard the ship! 10
O ship of the body--ship of the soul--voyaging, voyaging, voyaging.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Going To Paris
We are going to paris
In a ship with red sails
As the storm gathers slowly
We eat fishheads and snails
The mate jumps up, throws down a line
To a man overboard for the ninetieth time
And then he says with a wink
Sometimes I think
Ive been doing this forever!
We are going to paris
In a ship called the ? ?
There are signs in the sky at night
That the captain says hes seen
I keep books under my pillow
And read them before I sleep
Strange places I go to,
Strange companies I keep
We are going to paris
We are one and thirty strong
I can feel it in the air
Well be there before long
The wind has come
Like a man insane, insane
We are going to paris
It rains and it rains
We are going to paris
In a ship with red sails
We are going to paris
In a ship with red sails
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Homeland Africa
Ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi
Ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi
Ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi
Down the ocean a ship comes sailing through the waves
Filled with hundreds of men they take as slaves
Just long for their true homeland africa
And to be saved they want to be free
Men women and babyslaves
Coming to the land of liberty, liberty
Ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi...
They are tired of waiting for a brand new day
Some of them sing and chant some of them pray
And some men got a little tired too
No one knows if the journey pay
Men women and babyslaves
Coming to the land of liberty, liberty
Ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi...
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Captain2
He stands at the tiller
of a age old ship
that drifts upon
stormy waters
and the wind rips past
with a sharp chill
and the ship sail
like she forever will.
Caught between reality
and a place
that few ever see
the ghostly form
still steer that ship
to where destiny
bides her to go.
Some people think of it
as a trick of light
and others swear
of it to be there,
but no science
or chart can track
the way that she goes
and know why
her Captain lives forever more.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Flying Dutchman
The blue water stretches
as far as visibility allows to see
and there’s fog
rising white before the storm
out of the water.
The dusk becomes grey
and the sea from blue to dark black
while the night
darker than ink, as only companion
folds over the old ancient ship.
It’s Van der Decken standing as tiller man
behind the big wheel
and forever he steers the ship
on the journey that she goes.
Always cursing
his loud voice thunders
like lightning falling around him
for sailors to tend the sails right
and sails are hoisted crunching, groaning and trembling
with strong ropes
and the ship jumps
over the smashing waves.
Like a phantom
the Flying Dutchman appears
with white sails like a wraith
over the horizon
where it sails before a storm with speed.
The ship becomes lager
as the storm wind
brings her closer
and you hear her creak
against the power of the wind.
There’s thunder bolts blinding suddenly
and sea birds flies screeching
out in front of her,
while Van der Decken’s skeleton
drills his men powerless
to set the sails right
that is vibrating against the wind.
“How long still Lord, ”
echoes against the sea and sky,
without a answer
ever coming
and suddenly the ship is gone
as if it disappeared in the naught.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Good Ship Capitilism
The cry's of the poor rise up from the sea of oppression
And still the waves grow higher
The ship sails relentlessly on into the golden horizon
And now the sea is on fire
Wont you turn the ship around they cry
And the sharks draw near
This ship's to big to turn around
And the golden horizon would surely disappear
Ah, how great its been since we threw those
people overboard
So much more for you and I, and yours and mine
So much more for us to hoard
It was all ours anyway, those people
did nothing for what they had
Oh look, the sharks are starting to devour
Ah well thats just to bad
They should have learned to swim faster and stronger,
who do they think they were anyway
living here amongst us for nothing
without even as much as paying there way
Everything we have on this boat is ours
we didn't go to all that trouble just to give it away
Those who are left, if they work even harder
Its just possible we might let them stay
It has been reported to us that we
don't have as much as we might
What! post a lookout immediately
and see if those overboard are still in sight
Captain, they've been sighted
but are caught in a storm
Yes yes yes never mind all that, man the boats
where else are we going to get even more from
Ahoy there you poor and afflicted ones
would you like to come into our boats
Come on, give it all up, don't hold back
yes we will even take your coats
And the ship sailed on and the small boats screamed
Oh my God, don't leave us here in the sea
The afflicted ones will overcome us
And in the sea WE will be
Be quiet, do you think you could stay on this ship
and sail on forever free.
This ship's not about you or yours
This ship's about ME, ME, ME!
Sign on today for the good ship Capitalism
Get your tickets from Romney and Paul Ryan
But if you become sick there'll be no room for you
We throw overboard the sick and the dying
poem by Frank McEleny
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The Ship That Never Returned
On a summer's day while the waves were rippling, with a quiet and a gentle breeze;
A ship set sail with a cargo laden for a port beyond the sea.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
There were sad farewells, there were friends forsaken, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Said a feeble lad to his aged mother, I must cross that deep blue sea,
For I hear of a land in the far off country, where there's health and strength for me.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
'Tis a gleam of hope and a maze of danger, and our fate is still to learn,
And a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Said this feeble lad to his aged mother, as he kissed his weeping wife,
"Just one more purse of that golden treasure, it will last us all through life.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
"Then we'll live in peace and joy together and enjoy all I have earned."
So they sent him forth with a smile and blessing on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
poem by Henry Clay Work
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To Captain West, of the Steamer Atlantic
The gathering clouds around us lower,
The tempest wildly raves,
But fearlessly our noble ship
The angry ocean braves,
And buoyant as a sea-bird rides
The crested mountain waves.
The gale, the storm, the night may come,
No fear disturbs the breast;
Our ship is strong,---our Captain brave,---
And we securely rest.
Long life to him and all his Line!
Health to the gallant West!
Pilgrims to many lands are we,
And now our travel o'er
Once more beneath the Stars and Stripes
We near our native shore;
And since we parted from it last
Who does not love it more?
Adieu, new friends and old, adieu!
May every wandering breeze
That meets you on the Voyage of Life
Be far less rude than these
That our good ship has met so well
Upon the wintry seas.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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How’s My Boy?
“HO, Sailor of the sea!
How’s my boy—my boy?”
“What’s your boy’s name, good wife,
And in what good ship sail'd he?”
“My boy John— He that went to sea—
What care I for the ship, sailor?
My boy's my boy to me.
“You come back from sea,
And not know my John?
I might as well have ask’d some landsman
Yonder down in the town.
There ’s not an ass in all the parish
But he knows my John.
“How’s my boy—my boy?
And unless you let me know
I’ll swear you are no sailor,
Blue jacket or no,
Brass buttons or no, sailor,
Anchor and crown or no!
Sure his ship was the ‘Jolly Briton’”—
“Speak low, woman, speak low!”
“And why should I speak low, sailor,
About my own boy John?
If I was loud as I am proud
I’d sing him over the town!
Why should I speak low, sailor?”
“That good ship went down.”
“How’s my boy—my boy?
What care I for the ship, sailor?
I was never aboard her.
Be she afloat or be she aground,
Sinking or swimming, I’ll be bound,
Her owners can afford her!
I say, how’s my John?”
“Every man on board went down,
Every man aboard her.”
“How’s my boy—my boy?
What care I for the men, sailor?
I’m not their mother—
How’s my boy—my boy?
Tell me of him and no other!
How ’s my boy—my boy?”
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Friend Ship
Friend ship is a great thing to have
When you're in trouble
Call on a friend
When you have friend ship
You always have a friend
Friend ship is wonderful
Friend ship is amazing
Friend ship is being a pal
Right back at your friend
poem by Kathryn Thompson
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Will Sail Tomorrow
THE good ship lies in the crowded dock,
Fair as a statue, firm as a rock:
Her tall masts piercing the still blue air,
Her funnel glittering white and bare,
Whence the long soft line of vapory smoke
Betwixt sky and sea like a vision broke,
Or slowly o'er the horizon curled
Like a lost hope fled to the other world:
She sails to-morrow,--
Sails to-morrow.
Out steps the captain, busy and grave,
With his sailor's footfall, quick and brave,
His hundred thoughts and his thousand cares,
And his steady eye that all things dares:
Though a little smile o'er the kind face dawns
On the loving brute that leaps and fawns,
And a little shadow comes and goes,
As if heart and fancy fled--where, who knows:
He sails to-morrow:
Sails to-morrow.
To-morrow the serried line of ships
Will quick close after her as she slips
Into the unknown deep once more:
To-morrow, to-morrow, some on shore
With straining eyes shall desperate yearn--
'This is not parting? return--return!'
Peace, wild-wrung hands! hush, sobbing breath!
Love keepeth its own through life and death;
Though she sails to-morrow--
Sails to-morrow.
Sail, stately ship; down Southampton water
Gliding fair as old Nereus' daughter:
Christian ship that for burthen bears
Christians, speeded by Christian prayers;
All kinds of angels follow her track!
Pitiful God, bring the good ship back!
All the souls in her forever keep
Thine, living or dying, awake or asleep:
Then sail to-morrow!
Ship, sail to-morrow!
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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No Title
Title less
The ship sails on plowing
the surface
of eternity´s echo.
Where new dogmas
will be born,
man die in the name
of a deity.
The ship sails on seas
of timelessness
till the echo ceases.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Ship Trapped In The Ice
Hurry and see, hurry and see
The ship trapped in the ice
Hurry and see, hurry and see
The frost on the rigging superficially nice
The captain sold his marbles and the crew lost theirs at dice
Hurry and see, hurry and see
The ship trapped in the ice
How can we free, how can we free
The ship trapped in the ice
How can we free, how can we free
They sailed in the shallows now theyve paid the price
The captain drank the champagne but it tasted like old spice
How can we free, how can we free
The ship trapped in the ice
And I can only see this wreck with the aid of a drink and a mirror
She may look scenic from the shore but you dont wanna come any nearer
The captains box of butterflies have all hatched out as lice
Hurry and see, hurry and see
The ship trapped in the ice
And I can only see this wreck with the aid of a drink and a mirror
She may look scenic from the shore but you dont wanna come any nearer
How can this be, how can this be
The ship trapped in the ice
How can this be, how can this be
The frozen contract has a grip like a vice
The captain dreams of flying but hes also scared of heights
Oh how can this be, cause boy its me!
The ship trapped in the ice
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Musician's Tale; The Ballad of Carmilhan - I.
At Stralsund, by the Baltic Sea,
Within the sandy bar,
At sunset of a summer's day,
Ready for sea, at anchor lay
The good ship Valdemar.
The sunbeams danced upon the waves,
And played along her side;
And through the cabin windows streamed
In ripples of golden light, that seemed
The ripple of the tide.
There sat the captain with his friends,
Old skippers brown and hale,
Who smoked and grumbled o'er their grog,
And talked of iceberg and of fog,
Of calm and storm and gale.
And one was spinning a sailor's yarn
About Klaboterman,
The Kobold of the sea; a spright
Invisible to mortal sight,
Who o'er the rigging ran.
Sometimes he hammered in the hold,
Sometimes upon the mast,
Sometimes abeam, sometimes abaft,
Or at the bows he sang and laughed,
And made all tight and fast.
He helped the sailors at their work,
And toiled with jovial din;
He helped them hoist and reef the sails,
He helped them stow the casks and bales,
And heave the anchor in.
But woe unto the lazy louts,
The idlers of the crew;
Them to torment was his delight,
And worry them by day and night,
And pinch them black and blue.
And woe to him whose mortal eyes
Klaboterman behold.
It is a certain sign of death!?
The cabin-boy here held his breath,
He felt his blood run cold.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Ship To Shore
When you pulled at the wheel with me
To steer our fragile ship of state
We nosed toward uncharted seas
But found our course within a lake.
And every where that we did turn
There loomed another barren shore,
We turned, and then did turn about
To find we'd sailed each course before.
And you would chafe at each restraint
And I would rush to catch each squall
That filled our sails a little while
Before we lay becalmed once more.
Then you would see each distant point
As bearings, where your freedom lay
And drive our ship before the storm
For day upon each battered day.
'Til we had sailed on every course
That wit or will could still devise
While biting tongue and sharp retort
Became the language of our lives.
At every turn, a shallow reef
To wreck the hopes that we had shared,
Each tack would bring us near to grief
Each luff would leave us near despair.
But then you spied some promised ground
And took the boat on that same shore
That we had left together, once
Though never to return, we swore.
The ship of state rolled drunkenly,
I could not steer, nor go ashore
And so each watched the other weep
For you would cry, and I implore.
'Til you rowed back to join the ship
But we were fast upon some reef,
And soon you turned to carp and wit
To speed you on your long retreat.
A thousand times you made that trip,
A thousand times from ship to shore
But now the tide's exposed the rip,
There's nothing left to journey for.
And you may live your life ashore
While I attend some new design,
Our ship of state once went to war -
I burned her to the waterline.
20 September 1989
poem by David Lewis Paget
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