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 to.
His form was of the manliest beauty,
  His heart was kind and soft;
Faithful, below, he did his duty;...

Go, patter to lubbers and swabs, do ye see,
  ’Bout danger, and fear, and the like;
A tight-water boat and good sea-room give me,
  And it a’n’t to a little I ’ll strike.
Though the tempest topgallant-masts smack smooth should smite,
  And shiver each...