| A Sailor's
Prayer Fo'c'sle Song ©1978 Rod MacDonald, Used with permission* |
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| Though my sails be torn and tattered,
and the mast be turned about let the night wind chill me to my very soul though the spray might sting my eyes, and the stars no light provide give me just another morning light to hold (chorus): [For] I will not lie me down, this rain a-ragin' [No] I will not lie me down, in such a storm and if this night be unblessed, I shall not take my rest [Until] I reach another shore Though the only water left, is but salt to wound my thirst I will drink the rain that falls so steady down . . . though night's blindness be my gift, and there be thieves upon my drift I will [thank the] fog that shelters me along (chorus) Though my mates by drained and weary, and [it seems] their hopes are lost there's no need for their bones on that blackened bottom and though death waits just off the bow, we will not answer to him now he shall stand to face the morning without us (chorus)
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* Rod MacDonald was kind enough to send a letter to Bounding Main with his blessing to use this piece. |
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