Tom Bowling (Sailor's Epitaph)

Here a sheer hulk lies poor Tom Bowling The darling of our crew No more he'll hear the tempest howling For death has broached him too His form was of the manliest beauty His heart was kind and soft Faithful below Tom did his duty And now he's gone aloft And now he's gone aloft Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather When he who all commands Shall give to call life's crew together The Word to pipe all hands Thus death who kings and tars despatches In vain Tom's life hath doffed For though his body's under hatches His soul has gone aloft His soul has gone aloft