The schooner swells its sails for the far-off seas,
The steamer pounds proudly far away,
But I'd sooner be ascudding in a ten-knot breeze
In my little lug and mizzen in the bay.
The schooner sings the wind's song from Bristol to Brazil,
The steamer knows the whole World's way,
But I can see a cottage on a windy hill
From my little lug and mizzen in the bay.
The schooner's up to hatches with her pig-iron, coal, and mud,
The steamer, plugged with cargo, heaves away,
But I can whiffle mackerel as through the waves I scud
In my little lug and mizzen in the bay.
O! living in a schooner is like living in a tree,
And a steamer's like a big hotel to-day,
If I had my choice of sailing, I know I'd soonest be
In my little lug and mizzen in the bay.