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 turn'd to melancholy

For Tom is gone aloft

For Tom is gone aloft


Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather

When He who all commands

Shall give, to call life's crew together

The word to pipe all hands:

Thus Death, who kings and tars despatches

In vain Tom's life hath doff'd

For tho' his body's under hatches

His soul is gone aloft

His soul is gone aloft