Then farewell, my trim-built wherry,
Oars and coat and badge, farewell,
Never more at Chelsea ferry
Shall your Thomas take a spell.

But to hope and peace a stranger,
In the battle's heat I'll go.
Where expos'd to every danger,
Some friendly ball may lay me low.

Then mayhap when homeward steering,
With the news my messmates come,
Even you the story hearing,
With a sigh may cry "Poor Tom!"