Davy Jones's Locker Poem by Cicely Fox Smith

Shipmates o' mine, are you sleeping fair an' sound,
Mates fair an' foul, friend an' foe,
Lyin' where lost ships are, sunken deep an' drowned
In Davy Jones's locker down below?
In wide seas an' narrow, deep seas an' shoal,
There's no stone above you an' no bell to toil:
O rest for your body an' peace to your soul,
Shipmates a-sleepin' down below.

Shipmates o' mine, are you sleepin' fair an' sweet,
Where's never sun to burn or wind to blow,
Slid over side wi' the shot at head an' feet
To Davy Jones's locker down below?
Jock fro' Skye an' Stornoway, Mick o' Donegal,
Black skin an' white skin that answer the call,
Rip an' rogue an' honest man, room for 'em all,
Shipmates a-sleepin' down below.

Shipmates o' mine, are you sleeping fair an' sound
While we're a-trampin', trampin' to an' fro,
Do you heed us home-returnin', do you bless us outward bound,
In Davy Jones's locker down below?
Do you dream e'er so little o' the ship an' the crew,
O' ship-bell, an' chantey, an' sea still an' blue,
An' the hoot o' the syren, an' the thresh o' the screw,
Shipmates a-sleepin' down below?