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, Tom did his duty, And now he's gone aloft. Tom never from his word departed, His virtues were so rare; His friends were many and true-hearted, His Poll was kind and fair: And then he'd sing so blithe and jolly, Ah! many's the time and oft; But mirth is turned to melancholy, For Tom is 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 is gone aloft.
- by Charles Dibdin (1745 - 1814) [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
- by (Edward) Benjamin Britten (1913 - 1976), "Tom Bowling" [text verified 1 time]
- by Charles Dibdin (1745 - 1814), "Tom Bowling" [text verified 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , title 1: "Tom Bowling", copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:01:26
Line count: 24
Word count: 147