The yankee clipper
is under her sky-sails,
she cuts the sparkle
and scud
My eyes settle the land,
I bend at her prow
or shout joyously from the deck.
The boatmen and clam-diggers
arose early
and stop for me.
I tuck'd my trowser-ends
in my boots
and went
and had a good time;
You should have been
with us that day
round the clowder-kettle.
