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The Days Without Alloy.

When I sit on market-days amid the comers and the goers,

Oh! full oft I have a vision of the days without alloy,

And a ship comes up the river with a jolly gang of towers,

And a "pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy! heave, hoy!"

There is busy talk around me, all about mine ears it hummeth,

But the wooden wharves I look on, and a dancing, heaving buoy,

For 'tis tidetime in the river, and she cometh - oh, she cometh!

With a "pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy! heave, hoy!"

Then I hear the water washing, never golden waves were brighter,

And I hear the capstan creaking - 'tis a sound that cannot cloy.

Bring her to, to ship her lading, brig or schooner, sloop or lighter,

With a "pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy! heave, hoy!"

"Will ye step aboard, my dearest? for the high seas lie before us."

So I sailed adown the river in those days without alloy.

We are launched! But when, I wonder, shall a sweeter sound float o'er us

Than yon "pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy! heave, hoy!"