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Tom Bowling

Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling,
The darling of our crew;
No more he’ll hear the tempest howling,
For death has broached him to.
His form was of the manliest beauty,
His heart was kind and soft;
Faithful below, Tom did his duty,
And now he’s gone aloft, and now he’s gone aloft.

Tom never from his word departed,
His virtues were so rare;
His friends were many, and true-hearted,
His Poll was kind and fair,.
And then he’d sing so blithe and jolly
Ah! many’s the time and oft;
But mirth is turned to melancholy,
For Tom is gone aloft, for Tom is gone aloft.