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Poem by Martin Parker Sailors for My Money Country men of England, Who live at home with ease, And little think what dangers Are incident o’ th’ seas, Give ear unto the sailor Who unto you will show His case, his case, Howe’er the wind doth blow. He that is a sailor Must have a valiant heart, For when he is upon the sea He is not like to start, But must, with noble courage, All dangers undergo; Resolve, resolve, Howe’er the wind doth blow. Our calling is laborious And subject to much woe, But we must still contented be With what falls to our share. We must not be faint-hearted, Come tempest, rain, or snow, Nor shrink, nor shrink, Howe’er the wind doth blow. Sometimes on Neptune’s bosom Our ship is tossed with waves, And every minute we expect The sea must be our graves. Sometimes on high she mounteth, Then falls agains as low, With waves, with waves, When stormy winds do blow. Then with unfeignëd prayers, As Christian duty binds, We turn unto the Lord of Hosts, With all our hearts and minds; To him we fly for succor, For he, we surely know, Can save, can save, Howe’er the wind doth blow. Then he who breaks the rage, The rough and blusterous seas, When his disciples were afraid, Will straight the storms appease; And give us cause to thank, On bended knees full low, Who saves, who saves, Howe’er the wind doth blow. Our enemies approaching When we on sea espy, We must resolve incontinent To fight although we die; With noble resolution We must oppose our foe, In fight, in fight, Howe’er the wind does blow. And when by God’s assistance Our foes are put to th’ foil, To animate our courages We all have share o’ th’ spoil. Our foes into the ocean We back to back do throw, To sink, or swim, Howe’er the wind doth blow. Thus we gallant seamen, In midst of greatest dangers, Do always prove our valor, We never are no changers; But whatsoe’er betide us We stoutly undergo, Resolved, resolved, Howe’er the wind doth blow. If fortune do befriend us, In what we take in hand, We prove ourselves still generous Whene’er we come to land; There’s few that shall out-brave us, Though ne’er so great in show, We spend, and lend, Howe’er the wind doth blow. We travel to the Indies, From them we bring home spice; Here we buy rich merchandise At very little price. And many wealthy prizes We conquer from the foe, In fight, in fight, Howe’er the wind doth blow. Into our native country With wealth we do return, And cheer our wives and children, Who for our absence mourn. Then do we bravely flourish, And wheresoe’er we go, We roar, we roar, Howe’er the with doth blow. For when we have received Our wages for our pains, The vintners and the tapsters By us have golden gains. We call for liqour roundly, And pay before we go; And sing, and drink, Howe’er the wind doth blow. We bravely are respected When we walk up and down, For if we meet good company We care not for a crown; There’s none more free than sailors, Where’er he come or go, Though he’ll roar o’ th’ shore, Howe’er the wind doth blow. Then who would live in England And nourish vice with ease, When he that is in poverty May riches get o’ the seas? Let’s sail unto the Indies, Where golden grass doth grow; To sea, to sea, Howe’er the wind doth blow. Martin Parker Martin Parker's other poems:
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