The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;]]> While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:]]> O the bleeding drops of red,]]> Fallen cold and dead.]]> Rise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills;]]> For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;]]> This arm beneath your head;]]> You've fallen cold and dead.]]> My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;]]> From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;]]> But I, with mournful tread,]]> Fallen cold and dead.]]>