Here's another great outward bound poem:

A Valediction
(John Masefield)

We're bound for blue water where the great winds blow,
It's time to get the tacks aboard, time for us to go;
The crowd's at the capstan and the tune's in the shout,
"A long pull, a strong pull, and warp the hooker out."

The bow-wash is eddying, spreading from the bows,
Aloft and loose the topsails and some one give a rouse;
A salt-Atlantic chanty shall be music to the dead,
"A long pull, a strong pull, and the yard to the masthead."

Green and merry run the seas, the wind comes cold,
Salt and strong and pleasant, and worth a mint of gold;
And she's staggering, swooping, as she feels her feet,
"A long pull, a strong pull, and aft the mainsheet!"

Shrilly squeal the running sheaves, the weather-gear strains,
Such a clatter of chain-sheets, the devil's in the chains;
Over us the bright stars, under us the drowned,
"A long pull, a strong pull, and we're outward bound."

Yonder, round and ruddy, is the mellow old moon,
The red-funnelled tug has gone, and now, sonny, soon
We'll be clear of the Channel, so watch how you steer,
"Ease her when she pitches, and so-long, my dear."

Notes:

From SALT WATER POEMS AND BALLADS, John Masefield, published by The Macmillan Co., NY, © 1912, p. 49.

Here's the poem as adapted for singing by Andy Kenna as recorded on Salt Water Ballads, Liverpool Forebitter, © 2002 (copy and paste into WORD/TIMES/12 to line up chords)
Tune: after traditional "Ten Thousand Miles from Home"

A VALEDICTION-2
(John Masefield/Andy Kenna)

C---------------------------------------------F-------------C
We're bound for blue water where the great winds blow,
----F-----------------C------------------F---------------G
It's time to get the tacks aboard, it's time for us to go;
-----C-----------------------------------F--------------C
The crowd's at the capstan and the tune's in the shout,
----F-------------C------------------G---------G7------C
"A long pull, a strong pull, and warp the hooker out."


The bow-wash is eddying, spreading from the bows,
Aloft and loose the tops'ls, lads, and some one gives a rouse;
A salt-Atlantic chanty shall be music to the dead,
"A long pull, a strong pull, and the yard's to the masthead."

Green and merry run the seas, the wind comes cold,
Salt and strong and pleasant, lads, and worth a mint of gold;
She's staggering, she's swooping, as she finds her feet,
"A long pull, a strong pull, and aft the mainsheet!"

Shrilly squeal the running sheaves, the weather-gear strains,
Such a clatter of chain-sheets, lads, the devil's in the chains;
Over us the bright stars, and under us the drowned,
"A long pull, a strong pull, and we are outward bound."

Yonder, round and ruddy, is the mellow old moon,
The red-funnelled tug has gone, and now, sonny, soon
We'll be clear of the Channel, so watch how you steer,
"Ease her when she pitches, and so-long, me dear."

Andy sings this one at a leisurely pace backed up by concertina. I would strongly suggest picking up the pace but it's a fine musical setting.

Cheerily,
Charley Noble