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Though my sails be torn and tattered,
And the mast be turned about,
Let the night wind chill me to my very soul;
Though the spray might sting my eyes,
And the stars no light provide,
Give me just another morning light to hold.
And I will not lie me down,
This rain a-ragin',
I will not lie me down in such a storm;
And if this night be unblessed,
I shall not take my rest,
Till I reach another shore.
Though the only water left,
Is but salt to wound my thirst,
I will drink the rain that falls so steady down;
And though night's blindness be my gift,
And there be thieves upon my drift,
I will praise this fog that shelters me along.
And I will not lie me down,
This rain a-ragin',
I will not lie me down in such a storm;
And if this night be unblessed,
I shall not take my rest,
Till I reach another shore.
Though my mates by drained and weary,
And believe their hopes are lost,
There's no need for their bones on that blackened bottom;
And though death waits just off the bow,
They shall not answer to him now,
He shall stand to face the morning without us.
And I will not lie me down,
This rain a-ragin',
I will not lie me down in such a storm;
And if this night be unblessed,
I shall not take my rest,
Till I reach another shore.
Recorded by Rod MacDonald [b.1948], American folksinger/songwriter (No Commercial Traffic, trk#8, ©1983, Cinemagic Pictures; ©2002, Rod MacDonald).
The YouTube video above features a variant led by the Crimson Pirates during the day's closing performance on 6 September, 2009, at the New York Renaissance Faire.
