Overlijdensberichten
Farewell Old Sailor
No more a watch to stand, old Sailor.
For you are drifting on an ebbing tide.
Eight bells has rung. Dog Watch is done.
A new Berth waits you on the other side.
Your Ship is anchored in God's harbour
And though his sailors are of equal rank,
there'll be Shipmates on the deck to greet you
And Pipe, as you ascend the plank.
Her boilers with full head of steam.
Cargo stowed and Galley stored.
Just waiting to get underway.
When the last hand comes aboard.
Look sharp! That hand is you, old Sailor.
And you'll be sailing out on Heavenly Seas
So may the wind be ever at your back.
Fair weather. And God speed!
Goodbye Dad.
