LiederNet logo

CONTENTS

×
  • Home | Introduction
  • Composers (20,107)
  • Text Authors (19,481)
  • Go to a Random Text
  • What’s New
  • A Small Tour
  • FAQ & Links
  • Donors
  • DONATE

UTILITIES

  • Search Everything
  • Search by Surname
  • Search by Title or First Line
  • Search by Year
  • Search by Collection

CREDITS

  • Emily Ezust
  • Contributors (1,114)
  • Contact Information
  • Bibliography

  • Copyright Statement
  • Privacy Policy

Follow us on Facebook

Three Salt-Water Ballads

Song Cycle by J. Frederick Keel (1871 - 1954)

1. Port of many ships
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
It's a sunny pleasant anchorage, is Kingdom Come,
Where crews is always layin’ aft for double-tots o’ rum,
‘N’ there's dancing ‘n’ fiddling of ev’ry kind o' sort,
It's a fine place for sailor-men is that there port.
	‘N’ I wish –
	 I wish as I was there.

The winds is never nothin' more than jest light airs,
N' no one gets belayin' pinn’d, n' no one never swears,
Yer free to loaf ‘n’ laze around, yer pipe atween yer lips, 
Lollin' on the fo'c'sle, sonny, lookin' at the ships.
	‘N’ I wish –
	 I wish as I was there.

For ridin' in the anchorage the ships of all the world,
Have got one anchor down ‘n’ all sails furl’d.
All the sunken hookers ‘n’ the crews as took 'n' died
They lays there merry, sonny, swingin' to the tide
	‘N’ I wish –
	 I wish as I was there.

Drown’d old wooden hookers green wi' drippin' wrack,
Ships as never fetch’d to port, as never came back,
Swingin' to the blushin' tide, dippin' to the swell,
N' the crews all singin', sonny, beatin' on the bell
	‘N’ I wish –
	 I wish as I was there.

The text shown is a variant of another text. [ View differences ]
It is based on

  • a text in English by John Masefield (1878 - 1967), "Port of many ships", appears in Salt Water Ballads, first published 1902
    • Go to the text page.

Go to the general single-text view

Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson

2. Trade Winds
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
In the harbour, in the island, in the Spanish seas,
Are the tiny white houses and the orange trees,
And day-long, night-long, the cool and pleasant breeze
  Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.

There is the red wine, the nutty Spanish ale,
The shuffle of the dancers, and the old salt's tale,
The squeaking fiddle, and the soughing in the sail
  Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.

and o'nights there's the fire-flies and the yellow moon,
And in the ghostly palm trees the sleepy tune
Of the quiet voice calling me, the long low croon
  Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.

Text Authorship:

  • by John Masefield (1878 - 1967), "Trade Winds", appears in Salt Water Ballads, first published 1901

See other settings of this text.

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • SPA Spanish (Español) (José Miguel Llata) , "Vientos alisios", copyright © 2020, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Please note: this text, provided here for educational and research use, is in the public domain in Canada and the U.S., but it may still be copyright in other legal jurisdictions. The LiederNet Archive makes no guarantee that the above text is public domain in your country. Please consult your country's copyright statutes or a qualified IP attorney to verify whether a certain text is in the public domain in your country or if downloading or distributing a copy constitutes fair use. The LiederNet Archive assumes no legal responsibility or liability for the copyright compliance of third parties.

First published in Outlook, October, 1901


Researcher for this page: Gordon P. Briggs

3. Mother Carey
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
     (as told me by the bo'sun)

Mother Carey? She's the mother o' the witches
  'N' all them sort o' rips;
She's a fine gell to look at, but the hitch is,
  She's a sight too fond of ships;
She lives upon an iceberg to the norred,
  'N' her man he's Davy Jones,
'N' she combs the weeds upon her forred
  With pore drown'd sailors' bones.

She's the mother o' the wrecks, 'n' the mother
  Of all big winds as blows;
She's up to some deviltry or other
  When it storms, or sleets, or snows;
The noise of the wind's her screamin',
  'I'm arter a plump, young, fine,
Brass-button’d, beefy-ribb’d young seam'n
  So as me 'n' my mate kin dine.'

She's a hungry old rip 'n' a cruel
  For sailor-men like we,
She's give a many mariners the gruel
  'N' a long sleep under sea;
She's the blood o' many a crew upon her
  'N' the bones of many a wreck,
'N' she's barnacles a-growin' on her
  'N' shark's teeth round her neck.

I ain't never had no schoolin'
  Nor read no books like you,
But I knows it ain't healthy to be foolin'
  With that there gristly two;
You're young, you thinks, 'n' you're lairy,
  But if you're to make old bones,
Steer clear, I says, o' Mother Carey,
  'N' that there Davy Jones.

Text Authorship:

  • by John Masefield (1878 - 1967), "Mother Carey", appears in Salt Water Ballads, first published 1902

See other settings of this text.

First published in Speaker, 1902
Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Mike Pearson
Total word count: 523
Gentle Reminder

This website began in 1995 as a personal project by Emily Ezust, who has been working on it full-time without a salary since 2008. Our research has never had any government or institutional funding, so if you found the information here useful, please consider making a donation. Your help is greatly appreciated!
–Emily Ezust, Founder

Donate

We use cookies for internal analytics and to earn much-needed advertising revenue. (Did you know you can help support us by turning off ad-blockers?) To learn more, see our Privacy Policy. To learn how to opt out of cookies, please visit this site.

I acknowledge the use of cookies

Contact
Copyright
Privacy

Copyright © 2025 The LiederNet Archive

Site redesign by Shawn Thuris