TOMMY'S GONE TO HILO
Hoisting sail

To Hilo town, we'll see her through,
For Tommy's gone with a ruling crew.

Oh, Tommy's gone from down below,
And up aloft this yard must go.

Oh, Tommy's gone, we'll ne'er say nay
Until the Mate sings out, "Belay !"

I think I heard the old man say,
We'll get our grog three times a day.

Oh, one more pull and that will do,
So let her roll and wet us through.

She'll ship it green again today;
The mate is sore and hell's to pay.

Oh, Tommy's gone, what shall I do?
The mate is sore and so are you.

Oh, Tommy's gone and left us, too,
We like the mate- Like hell we do !

Frederick Pease Harlow, 1928, The Making of a Sailor, pp. 258-259,, with musical score, 17, Marine Research Society, Salem, MA.