You may smile if you've a mind to, but perhaps you'll lend an ear We've been boy and man together, close on for forty year I've sailed across these waters from Western Banks to Grand And in some herring vessels that hailed from Newfoundland. I've seen some storms, I tell you, where things looked kind of blue But somehow I was lucky, and always did come through But I'll not brag, however: I'm not so much, but then I'm not much easier frightened than most of other men. This one dark night I speak of, we were offshore a ways I never will forget it in all my mortal days When in the darkness of my watch I felt a chilling dread That bore me down as if I'd heard a calling from the dead. Then o'er the rail they climbed, all silent, one by one A dozen dripping sailors - just wait till I have done - And on the deck they assembled, but not a voice was heard They moved about together there, but never said a word. Their faces, pale and sea-wet shone ghostly through the night And each one took his station as if he had a right And Eastward steered the vessel till land was just in sight Or rather, I should say we saw the lighthouse tower's light. And then those ghostly sailors moved to the rail again And vanished in the morning mist before the sun of man We sailed right up the harbor, and every mother's son Will tell you the same story, the same as I have done. They are the same poor sailors - I pray God rest their souls - That our old craft ran over one night near Georges shoals And now you have my story, to you I will confess I have believed in spirits from that day until this.