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MISTER STORMALONG
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A pumping shanty that was later also used at the capstan.
LYRICS:
Lyrics (lyrics in brackets are floating verses):
Solo: Ah, Stormy's gone, that good old man
Chorus: Way, high, Stormalong
Solo: Ah, Stormy's gone, that good old man
Chorus: Aye, Aye, Mister Stormalong
[Of all the sailors he was best
But now he's dead and gone to rest]
[He slipped his cable off Cape Horn
Close by the place where he was born]
Well he's moored at last and he's furled his sails
He's free from wrecks and far from gales
We dug his grave with a silver spade
His shroud of the finest silk was made
Well we lowered him down with a golden chain
Each eye was dim but not with rain
[An able seaman bold an' true
A good ol' skipper to his crew]
As Stormy's heard that bugle call
So sing this dirge, now, one and all
[Oh, now we'll sing his funeral song
Oh, roll her over, long and strong]
[For fifty years he sailed the seas
In winter gale and summer breeze]
[And so Ol' Stormy's day was done
South fifty-six, west fifty-one]
[Ol' Stormy was a seaman bold
A grand ol' man o' the days of old]
A pumping shanty that was later also used at the capstan. The melody I use is from our Canadian friends Jon Bartlett and Rika Ruebsaat, who recorded the song on their excellent album, The Young Man from Canada, B.C. Songs from the P.J. Thomas Collection, Our Singing Tradition, Volume 2. The liner notes from the album say they learned the shanty from the singing of Captain Charles Cates (1899-1960) of North Vancouver, who most probably had it from his friend Captain George W. Roberts (1870-1952). Accompanying the song is the fall of the capstan's pawl as the capstan is turned.
Jon and Rika sing the verses shown below. Additional verses on our album (the floating verses mentioned above) are from Hugill's book Shanties from the Seven Seas.
Ah, Stormy's gone, that good old man
Ah, Stormy's gone, that good old man
Well he's moored at last and he's furled his sails
He's free from wrecks and far from gales
Well we'll dig his grave with a silver spade
Of the finest silk his shroud will be made
Well we'll lower him down with a golden chain
Each eye will dim but not with rain
As Stormy's heard that bugle call
So sing this dirge, now, one and all