Have you gazed out into the darkness
With rain blinding spray and sore eyes
Cursing the fate that brought you
To a race with so poor a prize
Have you sweated in a red hot galley
Over a stook of stew,
Cursing the seven bell dinner
And waiting for coffee to brew
Have you toiled deep down in the stoke hold
Deep 'neath the lubber line mark
Where the engines grind out their horse power
And the stokers spew in the dark
If you have, then you'll understand me
And the story I'm trying to tell
Of men who leave home love and comfort
For a modified form of hello
You think it's all plain sailing
On beautiful tropical seas
Basking on deck in the sunshine
And fanned by a gentle breeze
But no, they sweat to the sun in the tropics
And they freeze to the bone at the poles
Facing God's mighty comas
Hungry for human souls
So if tonight your window panes rattle
And you complain that you cannot sleep
Think of the life these men lead
Out on the raging deep.
For these are just poor mortals
Drifting in life's human stream
Who fight and win their battles
Nightmares to you, if you dream.
These are the men ordained by God
That the words of your prayer may come true
"Give us this day our daily bread"
And give the poor sailor his due.