The Days Without Alloy.

When I sit on market-days amid the comers and the goers,
    Oh! full oft I have a vision of the days without alloy,
And a ship comes up the river with a jolly gang of towers,
    And a "pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy! heave, hoy!"

There is busy talk around me, all about mine ears it hummeth,
    But the wooden wharves I look on, and a dancing, heaving buoy,
For 'tis tidetime in the river, and she cometh - oh, she cometh!
    With a "pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy! heave, hoy!"

Then I hear the water washing, never golden waves were brighter,
    And I hear the capstan creaking - 'tis a sound that cannot cloy.
Bring her to, to ship her lading, brig or schooner, sloop or lighter,
    With a "pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy! heave, hoy!"

"Will ye step aboard, my dearest? for the high seas lie before us."
    So I sailed adown the river in those days without alloy.
We are launched! But when, I wonder, shall a sweeter sound float o'er us
    Than yon "pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy! heave, hoy!"