Skipper at the helm and a firm grip in his hand.
The threat of death in his bones,
Many knots from any land.
The storm has stuck and the strong winds blow,
Where we'll all end up God only knows.

CHORUS
So hall bys, hall, hall all in time.
Fasten all hatches and secure all lines.
The port of call will come now,
Maybe a moon away.
With the grace of God,
A little luck to guide us, now we pray.

Men on deck in sight for shore.
The vessel takes another smack
And the skipper yells, "God, no more!"
Mayday sent in hope to be found
A fight to stay the course
As the compass danced around.

Dawn breaks and the crest of the waves are down.
The galley a bloody mess
For the vessel tossed around.
One man washed over, life taken by the sea,
His loved ones await now praying at the quay.

Now bearings set north northweast shows
The wheelhouse slat washed
And the skipper takes a blow.
Land in sight, the men they cheer.
The hardest yet to come,
The new widow weeping tears.