The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:]]> O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.]]> Rise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths-for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;]]> This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.]]> My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;]]> But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.]]>