Bristol farewell
The cry of seagulls in the wind,The sigh of storm to come;The screech of sheet, and clap of sail,And hiss of creeping foam.
The yells and cries of seamen,The hauling on the chain,The ship’s a ready, “Anchors away”,The cry is loud and plain.
“For we are bound for Africa,To thrust, and rape, and keep;Oh yes, we head for Africa,Black gold for us to reap”.
With cutlass held to the heart,With black ivory seized and chained,The deed is done, and money made,And a fine rich life was gained.
And in Bristol a carriage and pair,And children on the knee;With a butler and servants,No need now to go to sea.
Everything now is fine and goodWith brandy sweet to taste,God is in his heaven,And the mistress to embrace.
Until, that…