44 FISHERMEN'S OWN BOOK. 



Homeward Bound. 



BY JAMES DAVIS. 



O heave up the anchor, the waist it lies low 



With the weight of our good finny freight in the hold; 

 The wind from the east is beginning to blow, 



Now heave up the anchor, my live lions bold ; 

 My eyes they are aching for sight of the land, 



My heart it is sighing for sweet home once more ; 

 Now heave O, my hearties, and landward we'll stand, 



To meet the dear friends who are waiting on shore. 



Chorus. 



O heave up the anchor, my good fishers bold, 



And homeward we'll steer with our freight good as gold ; 



Blow, breezes, and waft us the wide waters o'er, 



For dear ones are waiting for us on the shore. 



Out on the dark waters, for four weeks and more, 



"We've trawled and we've hauled, boys, day in and day out; 

 Now dear ones are watching for us on the shore, 



And fears for our safety are whispered about ; 

 So heave up the anchor and set every sail, 



Blow, breezes, and speed us the wide waters o'er, 

 Blow steady and strong till the home-port we hail, 



And gladden the hearts that are waiting on shore. — Chorus. 



O, Love will sail out, and Love will sail in, 



For beneath our rough jackets our hearts they beat warm, 

 And bread and delights for our dear ones to win, 



We watch, and we work, and we battle the storm; 

 But happy the day when the skipper doth say, 



"Come, heave up the anchor, men, full is our store," 

 And o'er the wide waters we speed on our way, 



To meet the dear friends who are waiting on shore. — Chorus. 



And so we will sail, boys, blow high or blow low, 



Sail landward or seaward, as duty may call, 

 With a heart for hard fortunes, for never we know, 



Bound outward or inward, what luck may befall; 

 And we sail and we ride out on Georges' far bank, 



While the winds and the waters they rage and they roar, 

 And between us and death there is only a plank, 



For the sake of the dear ones we've left on the shore. — Chortts. 



There's danger on land, and there's danger at sea, 



But there's hope at all partings of meeting again, 

 For Love is around us wherever we be, 



And One there goes with us who knows we are men ; 

 So we sail and we ride out upon the rough tide, 



Expecting that when our last sea voyage is o'er, 

 We'll moor our old barks, boys, in port side by side, 



And greet our dear friends on the heavenly shore. — Chorus. 



