| |
| Overloaded, undermanned, | |
| Trusting to a lee, | |
| Playing I-spy with the land, | |
| Jockeying the sea— | |
| That ’s the way the Coaster goes, | 5 |
| Through calm and hurricane: | |
| Everywhere the tide flows, | |
| Everywhere the wind blows, | |
| From Mexico to Maine. | |
| |
| O East and West! O North and South! | 10 |
| We ply along the shore, | |
| From famous Fundy’s foggy mouth, | |
| From voes of Labrador; | |
| Through pass and strait, on sound and sea, | |
| From port to port we stand— | 15 |
| The rocks of Race fade on our lee, | |
| We hail the Rio Grande. | |
| Our sails are never lost to sight; | |
| On every gulf and bay | |
| They gleam, in winter wind-cloud white, | 20 |
| In summer rain-cloud gray. | |
| |
| We hold the coast with slippery grip; | |
| We dare from cape to cape: | |
| Our leaden fingers feel the dip | |
| And trace the channel’s shape. | 25 |
| We sail or bide as serves the tide; | |
| Inshore we cheat its flow, | |
| And side by side at anchor ride | |
| When stormy head-winds blow. | |
| We are the offspring of the shoal, | 30 |
| The hucksters of the sea; | |
| From custom theft and pilot toll | |
| Thank God that we are free. | |
| |
| Legging on and off the beach, | |
| Drifting up the strait, | 35 |
| Fluking down the river reach, | |
| Towing through the gate— | |
| That ’s the way the Coaster goes, | |
| Flirting with the gale: | |
| Everywhere the tide flows, | 40 |
| Everywhere the wind blows, | |
| From York to Beavertail. | |
| |
| Here and there to get a load, | |
| Freighting anything; | |
| Running off with spanker stowed, | 45 |
| Loafing wing-a-wing— | |
| That ’s the way the Coaster goes, | |
| Chumming with the land: | |
| Everywhere the tide flows, | |
| Everywhere the wind blows, | 50 |
| From Ray to Rio Grande. | |
| |
| We split the swell where rings the bell | |
| On many a shallow’s edge, | |
| We take our flight past many a light | |
| That guards the deadly ledge; | 55 |
| We greet Montauk across the foam, | |
| We work the Vineyard Sound, | |
| The Diamond sees us running home, | |
| The Georges outward bound; | |
| Absecom hears our canvas beat | 60 |
| When tacked off Brigantine; | |
| We raise the Gulls with lifted sheet, | |
| Pass wing-and-wing between. | |
| |
| Off Monomoy we fight the gale, | |
| We drift off Sandy Key; | 65 |
| The watch of Fenwick sees our sail | |
| Scud for Henlopen’s lee. | |
| With decks awash and canvas torn | |
| We wallow up the Stream; | |
| We drag dismasted, cargo borne, | 70 |
| And fright the ships of steam. | |
| Death grips us with his frosty hands | |
| In calm and hurricane; | |
| We spill our bones on fifty sands | |
| From Mexico to Maine. | 75 |
| |
| Cargo reef in main and fore, | |
| Manned by half a crew, | |
| Romping up the weather shore, | |
| Edging down the Blue— | |
| That ’s the way the Coaster goes, | 80 |
| Scouting with the lead: | |
| Everywhere the tide flows, | |
| Everywhere the wind blows, | |
| From Cruz to Quoddy Head. | |
| |
