It was the good ship Polly, and she sailed the wintry sea,
For ships must sail tho’ fierce the gale, and a precious freight had she;
‘Twas the captain’s little daughter stood beside her father’s chair,
And illumed the dingy cabin with the sunshine of her hair.
With a yo-heave-ho, and a yo-heave-ho!
For ships must sail
Tho’ fierce the gale
And loud the tempests blow.
The captain’s fingers rested on the pretty, curly head.
“To-morrow will be Christmas day,” the little maiden said;
“Do you suppose that Santa Claus will find us on the sea,
And make believe the stove-pipe is a chimney — just for me?”
Loud laughed the jovial captain, and “By my faith,” he cried,
“If he should come we’ll let him know he has a friend inside!”
And many a rugged sailor cast a loving glance that night
At the stove-pipe where a lonely little stocking fluttered white.
With a yo-heave-ho, and a yo-heave-ho!
For ships must sail
Tho’ fierce the gale
And loud the tempests blow.
On the good ship Polly the Christmas sun looked down,
And on a smiling little face beneath a golden crown.
No happier child he saw that day, on sea or on the land,
Than the captain’s little daughter with her treasures in her hand.
For never was a stocking so filled with curious things!
There were bracelets made of pretty shells, and rosy coral strings;
An elephant carved deftly from a bit of ivory tusk;
A fan, an alligator’s tooth, and a little bag of musk.
Not a tar aboard the Polly but felt the Christmas cheer,
For the captain’s little daughter was to every sailor dear.
They heard a Christmas carol in the shrieking wintry gust,
For a little child had touched them by her simple, loving trust.
With a yo-heave-ho, and a yo-heave-ho!
For ships must sail
Tho’ fierce the gale
And loud the tempests blow.
