And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill.

And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill.

There's not a ship that sails the ocean,
But every climate, every soil,
Must bring its tribute, read more

There's not a ship that sails the ocean,
But every climate, every soil,
Must bring its tribute, great or small,
And help to build the wooden wall!

She bears her down majestically near,
Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier.

She bears her down majestically near,
Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier.

Like ships that have gone down at sea,
When heaven was all tranquillity.

Like ships that have gone down at sea,
When heaven was all tranquillity.

Lord, Thou hast made this world below the shadow of a dream,
An', taught by time, I tak' it read more

Lord, Thou hast made this world below the shadow of a dream,
An', taught by time, I tak' it so--exceptin' always steam,
From coupler-flange to spindle-guide I see thy Hand, O God--
Predestination in the stride o' yon connectin'-rod.

For why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or wave or wind?
The air is cut read more

For why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or wave or wind?
The air is cut away before,
And closes from behind.

The Liner she's a lady, an' she never looks nor 'eeds--
The Man-o'-War's 'er 'usband an' 'e gives 'er read more

The Liner she's a lady, an' she never looks nor 'eeds--
The Man-o'-War's 'er 'usband an' 'e gives 'er all she needs;
But, oh, the little cargo-boats, that sail the wet seas roun',
They're just the same as you an' me, a'-plyin' up an' down.

It would have been as though he [President Andrew Johnson] were
in a boat of stone with masts of read more

It would have been as though he [President Andrew Johnson] were
in a boat of stone with masts of steel, sails of lead, ropes of
iron, the devil at the helm, the wrath of God for a breeze, and
hell for his destination.

Her plates are scarred by the sun, dear lass,
And her ropes are taut with the dew,
read more

Her plates are scarred by the sun, dear lass,
And her ropes are taut with the dew,
For we're booming down on the old trail, our own trail, the out
trail,
We're sagging south on the Long Trail, the trail that is always
new.