Announcement

Collapse
No announcement yet.

3 Men in a boat

Collapse
X
 
  • Filter
  • Time
  • Show
Clear All
new posts

  • 3 Men in a boat

    well tis the big off the morra!

    one way car hire to Inverness - which I guess burns a few bridges on the chickening out front and turning round and coming home.

    weather looks reasonable, considering we're in something big that was built for much worse, southerly 3 to 4's, sea state smooth to slight, potential for a bit of east in it from sunday onwards. gonna sty 5 miles off mostly but Its years since I was at sea for a few days solid and with some night navigation thrown in. Aberdeen to the bell rock lighthouse in the dark should be a barrel of laughs

    Looking forward to it in a slightly nervy sort of way, 275 miles to go, some iffy bits of sea to cover at night, dug out all the old instruments out and got some new paper charts, so gonna do a bit of dead reckoning and sea how far away my calculations put us from where the electrons reckon we really are

    have bought an extra packet of biscuits and a norwegian phrase book in case we get lost

    may well post some progress reports, if t'interweb will reach pansy where we're bound
    ʎɐqǝ uo pɹɐoqʎǝʞ ɐ ʎnq ı ǝɯıʇ ʇsɐן ǝɥʇ sı sıɥʇ.

    Thought for the day:
    Some people are like slinkies - not really good for anything but bring a smile to your face when thrown down the stairs

    Converting an MFV Fifie trawler type thing.

  • #2
    Looking forward to following your progress Mark. I hope everything goes as smoothly as it can for you's mate.

    Jim.
    Remember, some people are alive simply because it is illegal to shoot them.

    Comment


    • #3
      What can I say ,wish I was going as well and it's something you'll obviously not forget and should meld you together as men against the sea , I'm looking forward to any reports that may come back and hope to see you at St. Peters basin on Sunday .

      OH should I bring a cage and some C.S. gas for Ell ? and maybe some Kangas ,oh hang on you'll need them BEFORE you go
      You can take the lad out of Walker but .......

      Comment


      • #4
        Originally posted by SIXFOOTSTEVE View Post
        .....I'm looking forward to any reports that may come back and hope to see you at St. Peters basin on Sunday .
        D

        that metal in you're nappa must be rusting already - its monday man!

        taking some dvd's to watch on the way - The cruel sea (Ell can be Noel Coward), Das boot, The Bounty, A Perfect Storm, that sort of thing
        ʎɐqǝ uo pɹɐoqʎǝʞ ɐ ʎnq ı ǝɯıʇ ʇsɐן ǝɥʇ sı sıɥʇ.

        Thought for the day:
        Some people are like slinkies - not really good for anything but bring a smile to your face when thrown down the stairs

        Converting an MFV Fifie trawler type thing.

        Comment


        • #5
          DOH ,blame it on the tablets mate
          You can take the lad out of Walker but .......

          Comment


          • #6
            Nee hard tac Mark? (I think I spelt that right)

            Ell as Noel Coward sounds pretty good to me mate.

            Watch out for any large boats carrying people on Marcs watch mind Not wanting to say the F word lol.

            Jim.
            Remember, some people are alive simply because it is illegal to shoot them.

            Comment


            • #7
              Originally posted by willywetegg View Post
              Nee hard tac Mark? (I think I spelt that right)

              Ell as Noel Coward sounds pretty good to me mate.

              Watch out for any large boats carrying people on Marcs watch mind Not wanting to say the F word lol.

              Jim.
              there's plenty of big stuff to look out for as well. have a look at ShipAIS- Watching the boats go by. click on the litttle maps, thats live traffic from the AIS radar feeds, and only vessels over 100metres have to broadcast that lot, add in Northrn europes biggest fishing fleets in fraserburgh and peterhead... saturday night will be fun!
              ʎɐqǝ uo pɹɐoqʎǝʞ ɐ ʎnq ı ǝɯıʇ ʇsɐן ǝɥʇ sı sıɥʇ.

              Thought for the day:
              Some people are like slinkies - not really good for anything but bring a smile to your face when thrown down the stairs

              Converting an MFV Fifie trawler type thing.

              Comment


              • #8
                Just saved that to me fav's, I bet your pleased your not going through the Irish sea As you say it could get quite busy with the fishing fleets out though.

                Have a great trip, I am sure there will be some great stories when you get back.

                Jim.
                Remember, some people are alive simply because it is illegal to shoot them.

                Comment


                • #9
                  good luck lads! ,
                  i bet yous have a great time!

                  Comment


                  • #10
                    Twas nice knowing you lads!!

                    Seriously, it sounds like an experience you won't forget, enjoy the trip.
                    Cheers, Keith.

                    Comment


                    • #11
                      I'm soo totally not scared

                      I'm even worried about the drive up, never handled an Astra Estate before
                      "I mock thee not, though I by thee am mockéd.
                      Thou call'st me madman, but I call thee blockhead"

                      Comment


                      • #12
                        Originally posted by mark View Post

                        taking some dvd's to watch on the way - The cruel sea (Ell can be Noel Coward), Das boot, The Bounty, A Perfect Storm, that sort of thing
                        I thought Ell would be playing George Clooney Good luck guys will be thinking of you and looking forward to reading any reports. Be safe
                        UKCC Level 2 Game Angling Coach

                        Comment


                        • #13
                          good luck lads,have a safe trip and look forward to seeing you's back home safely on monday....cant wait to read all stories when you get back, it will be a hoot!!

                          Comment


                          • #14
                            Watch out for those Greek types during this epic saga

                            Something for you to read:

                            The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

                            PART ONE
                            IT IS an ancient Mariner,
                            And he stoppeth one of three.
                            'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
                            Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?

                            The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
                            And I am next of kin;
                            The guests are met, the feast is set:
                            May'st hear the merry din.'

                            He holds him with his skinny hand,
                            'There was a ship,' quoth he.
                            'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!'
                            Eftsoons his hand dropt he.

                            He holds him with his glittering eye--
                            The Wedding-Guest stood still,
                            And listens like a three years' child:
                            The Mariner hath his will.

                            The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
                            He cannot choose but hear;
                            And thus spake on that ancient man,
                            The bright-eyed Mariner.

                            'The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,
                            Merrily did we drop
                            Below the kirk, below the hill,
                            Below the lighthouse top.

                            The Sun came up upon the left,
                            Out of the sea came he!
                            And he shone bright, and on the right
                            Went down into the sea.

                            Higher and higher every day,
                            Till over the mast at noon--'
                            The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
                            For he heard the loud bassoon.

                            The bride hath paced into the hall,
                            Red as a rose is she;
                            Nodding their heads before her goes
                            The merry minstrelsy.

                            The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
                            Yet he cannot choose but hear;
                            And thus spake on that ancient man,
                            The bright-eyed Mariner.

                            And now the Storm-blast came, and he
                            Was tyrannous and strong:
                            He struck with his o'ertaking wings,
                            And chased us south along.

                            With sloping masts and dipping prow,
                            As who pursued with yell and blow
                            Still treads the shadow of his foe,
                            And forward bends his head,
                            The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
                            And southward aye we fled.

                            And now there came both mist and snow,
                            And it grew wondrous cold:
                            And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
                            As green as emerald.

                            And through the drifts the snowy clifts
                            Did send a dismal sheen:
                            Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken--
                            The ice was all between.

                            The ice was here, the ice was there,
                            The ice was all around:
                            It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
                            Like noises in a swound!

                            At length did cross an Albatross,
                            Thorough the fog it came;
                            As if it had been a Christian soul,
                            We hailed it in God's name.

                            It ate the food it ne'er had eat,
                            And round and round it flew.
                            The ice did split with a thunder-fit;
                            The helmsman steered us through!

                            And a good south wind sprung up behind;
                            The Albatross did follow,
                            And every day, for food or play,
                            Came to the mariners' hollo!

                            In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
                            It perched for vespers nine;
                            Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
                            Glimmered the white Moon-shine.'

                            'God save thee, ancient Mariner!
                            From the fiends, that plague thee thus!--
                            Why look'st thou so?'--'With my cross-bow
                            I shot the Albatross.'

                            PART TWO
                            THE Sun now rose upon the right:
                            Out of the sea came he,
                            Still hid in mist, and on the left
                            Went down into the sea.

                            And the good south wind still blew behind,
                            But no sweet bird did follow,
                            Nor any day for food or play
                            Came to the mariners' hollo!

                            And I had done a hellish thing,
                            And it would work 'em woe:
                            For all averred, I had killed the bird
                            That made the breeze to blow.
                            Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,
                            That made the breeze to blow!

                            Nor dim nor red like God's own head,
                            The glorious Sun uprist:
                            Then all averred, I had killed the bird
                            That brought the fog and mist.
                            'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
                            That bring the fog and mist.

                            The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
                            The furrow followed free;
                            We were the first that ever burst
                            Into that silent sea.

                            Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
                            'Twas sad as sad could be;
                            And we did speak only to break
                            The silence of the sea!

                            All in a hot and copper sky,
                            The bloody Sun, at noon,
                            Right up above the mast did stand,
                            No bigger than the Moon.

                            Day after day, day after day,
                            We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
                            As idle as a painted ship
                            Upon a painted ocean.

                            Water, water, every where,
                            And all the boards did shrink;
                            Water, water, every where,
                            Nor any drop to drink.

                            The very deep did rot: O Christ!
                            That ever this should be!
                            Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
                            Upon the slimy sea.

                            About, about, in reel and rout
                            The death-fires danced at night;
                            The water, like a witch's oils,
                            Burnt green, and blue and white.

                            And some in dreams assur'ed were
                            Of the Spirit that plagued us so;
                            Nine fathom deep he had followed us
                            From the land of mist and snow.

                            And every tongue, through utter drought,
                            Was withered at the root;
                            We could not speak, no more than if
                            We had been choked with soot.

                            Ah! well a-day! what evil looks
                            Had I from old and young!
                            Instead of the cross, the Albatross
                            About my neck was hung.

                            PART THREE
                            THERE passed a weary time. Each throat
                            Was parched, and glazed each eye.
                            A weary time! a weary time!
                            How glazed each weary eye,
                            When looking westward, I beheld
                            A something in the sky.

                            At first it seemed a little speck,
                            And then it seemed a mist;
                            It moved and moved, and took at last
                            A certain shape, I wist.

                            A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!
                            And still it neared and neared:
                            As if it dodged a water-sprite,
                            It plunged and tacked and veered.

                            With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
                            We could nor laugh nor wail;
                            Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
                            I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,
                            And cried, A sail! a sail!

                            With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
                            Agape they heard me call:
                            Gramercy! they for joy did grin
                            And all at once their breath drew in,
                            As they were drinking all.

                            See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!
                            Hither to work us weal;
                            Without a breeze, without a tide,
                            She steadies with upright keel!

                            The western wave was all a-flame.
                            The day was well nigh done!
                            Almost upon the western wave
                            Rested the broad bright Sun;
                            When that strange shape drove suddenly
                            Betwixt us and the Sun.

                            And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
                            (Heaven's Mother send us grace!)
                            As if through a dungeon-grate he peered
                            With broad and burning face.

                            Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
                            How fast she nears and nears!
                            Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,
                            Like restless gossameres?

                            Are those her ribs through which the Sun
                            Did peer, as through a grate?
                            And is that Woman all her crew?
                            Is that a DEATH? and are there two?
                            Is DEATH that woman's mate?

                            Her lips were red, her looks were free,
                            Her locks were yellow as gold:
                            Her skin was as white as leprosy,
                            The Night-mare Life-in-Death was she,
                            Who thicks man's blood with cold.

                            The naked hulk alongside came,
                            And the twain were casting dice;
                            'The game is done! I've won! I've won!'
                            Quoth she, and whistles thrice.

                            The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
                            At one stride comes the dark;
                            With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea,
                            Off shot the spectre-bark.

                            We listened and looked sideways up!
                            Fear at my heart, as at a cup,
                            My life-blood seemed to sip!
                            The stars were dim, and thick the night,
                            The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white;
                            From the sails the dew did drip--
                            Till clomb above the eastern bar
                            The horn'ed Moon, with one bright star
                            Within the nether tip.

                            One after one, by the star-dogged Moon,
                            Too quick for groan or sigh,
                            Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,
                            And cursed me with his eye.

                            Four times fifty living men,
                            (And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
                            With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
                            They dropped down one by one.

                            The souls did from their bodies fly,--
                            They fled to bliss or woe!
                            And every soul, it passed me by,
                            Like the whizz of my cross-bow!

                            PART FOUR

                            'I FEAR thee, ancient Mariner!
                            I fear thy skinny hand!
                            And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
                            As is the ribbed sea-sand.

                            I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
                            And thy skinny hand, so brown.'--
                            Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!
                            This body dropt not down.

                            Alone, alone, all, all alone,
                            Alone on a wide wide sea!
                            And never a saint took pity on
                            My soul in agony.

                            The many men, so beautiful!
                            And they all dead did lie:
                            And a thousand thousand slimy things
                            Lived on; and so did I.

                            I looked upon the rotting sea,
                            And drew my eyes away
                            I looked upon the rotting deck,
                            And there the dead men lay

                            I looked to Heaven, and tried to pray;
                            But or ever a prayer had gusht,
                            A wicked whisper came, and made
                            My heart as dry as dust.

                            I closed my lids, and kept them close,
                            And the balls like pulses beat;
                            For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky
                            Lay like a load on my weary eye,
                            And the dead were at my feet.

                            The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
                            Nor rot nor reek did they:
                            The look with which they looked on me
                            Had never passed away.

                            An orphan's curse would drag to hell
                            A spirit from on high;
                            But oh! more horrible than that
                            Is the curse in a dead man's eye!
                            Seven days, seven nights saw that curse,
                            And yet I could not die.

                            The moving Moon went up the sky,
                            And no where did abide:
                            Softly she was going up,
                            And a star or two beside--

                            Her beams bemocked the sultry main,
                            Like April hoar-frost spread;
                            But where the ship's huge shadow lay,
                            The charm'ed water burnt alway
                            A still and awful red.

                            Beyond the shadow of the ship,
                            I watched the water-snakes:
                            They moved in tracks of shining white
                            And when they reared, the elfish light
                            Fell off in hoary flakes.

                            Within the shadow of the ship
                            I watched their rich attire:
                            Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
                            Then coiled and swam; and every track
                            Was a flash of golden fire.

                            O happy living things! no tongue
                            Their beauty might declare:
                            A spring of love gushed from my heart,
                            And I blessed them unaware:
                            Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
                            And I blessed them unaware.

                            The self-same moment I could pray;
                            And from my neck so free
                            The Albatross fell off, and sank
                            Like lead into the sea.

                            PART FIVE

                            OH sleep! it is a gentle thing,
                            Beloved from pole to pole!
                            To Mary Queen the praise be given!
                            She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,
                            That slid into my soul.

                            The silly buckets on the deck,
                            That had so long remained,
                            I dreamt that they were filled with dew;
                            And when I awoke, it rained.

                            My lips were wet, my throat was cold,
                            My garments all were dank;
                            Sure I had drunken in my dreams,
                            And still my body drank.

                            I moved, and could not feel my limbs:
                            I was so light--almost
                            I thought that I had died in sleep,
                            And was a bless'ed ghost.

                            And soon I heard a roaring wind:
                            It did not come anear;
                            But with its sound it shook the sails,
                            That were so thin and sere.

                            The upper air burst into life!
                            And a hundred fire-flags sheen,
                            To and fro they were hurried about!
                            And to and fro, and in and out,
                            The wan stars danced between.

                            And the coming wind did roar more loud,
                            And the sails did sigh like sedge;
                            And the rain poured down from one black cloud;
                            The Moon was at its edge.

                            The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
                            The Moon was at its side:
                            Like waters shot from some high crag,
                            The lightning fell with never a jag,
                            A river steep and wide.

                            The loud wind never reached the ship,
                            Yet now the ship moved on!
                            Beneath the lightning and the Moon
                            The dead men gave a groan.

                            They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
                            Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;
                            It had been strange, even in a dream,
                            To have seen those dead men rise.

                            The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;
                            Yet never a breeze up-blew;
                            The mariners all 'gan work the ropes,
                            Where they were wont to do;
                            They raised their limbs like lifeless tools--
                            We were a ghastly crew.

                            The body of my brother's son
                            Stood by me, knee to knee:
                            The body and I pulled at one rope,
                            But he said nought to me.

                            'I fear thee, ancient Mariner!'
                            Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest!
                            'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
                            Which to their corses came again,
                            But a troop of spirits blest:

                            For when it dawned--they dropped their arms,
                            And clustered round the mast;
                            Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,
                            And from their bodies passed.

                            Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
                            Then darted to the Sun;
                            Slowly the sounds came back again,
                            Now mixed, now one by one.

                            Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
                            I heard the sky-lark sing;
                            Sometimes all little birds that are,
                            How they seemed to fill the sea and air
                            With their sweet jargoning!

                            And now 'twas like all instruments,
                            Now like a lonely flute;
                            And now it is an angel's song,
                            That makes the heavens be mute.

                            It ceased; yet still the sails made on
                            A pleasant noise till noon,
                            A noise like of a hidden brook
                            In the leafy month of June,
                            That to the sleeping woods all night
                            Singeth a quiet tune.

                            Till noon we quietly sailed on,
                            Yet never a breeze did breathe:
                            Slowly and smoothly went the Ship,
                            Moved onward from beneath.

                            Under the keel nine fathom deep,
                            From the land of mist and snow,
                            The spirit slid: and it was he
                            That made the ship to go.
                            The sails at noon left off their tune,
                            And the ship stood still also.

                            The Sun, right up above the mast,
                            Had fixed her to the ocean:
                            But in a minute she 'gan stir,
                            With a short uneasy motion--
                            Backwards and forwards half her length
                            With a short uneasy motion.

                            Then like a pawing horse let go,
                            She made a sudden bound:
                            It flung the blood into my head,
                            And I fell down in a swound.

                            How long in that same fit I lay,
                            I have not to declare;
                            But ere my living life returned,
                            I heard and in my soul discerned
                            Two voices in the air.

                            'Is it he?' quoth one, 'Is this the man?
                            By him who died on cross,
                            With his cruel bow he laid full low
                            The harmless Albatross.

                            The spirit who bideth by himself
                            In the land of mist and snow,
                            He loved the bird that loved the man
                            Who shot him with his bow.'

                            The other was a softer voice,
                            As soft as honey-dew:
                            Quoth he, 'The man hath penance done,
                            And penance more will do.'

                            PART SIX
                            First Voice

                            'BUT tell me, tell me! speak again,
                            They soft response renewing--
                            What makes that ship drive on so fast?
                            What is the ocean doing?'

                            Second Voice

                            'Still as a slave before his lord,
                            The ocean hath no blast;
                            His great bright eye most silently
                            Up to the Moon is cast--

                            If he may know which way to go;
                            For she guides him smooth or grim.
                            See, brother, see! how graciously
                            She looketh down on him.'

                            First Voice

                            'But why drives on that ship so fast,
                            Without or wave or wind?'

                            Second Voice
                            'The air is cut away before,
                            And closes from behind.

                            Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high!
                            Or we shall be belated:
                            For slow and slow that ship will go,
                            When the Mariner's trance is abated.'

                            I woke, and we were sailing on
                            As in a gentle weather:
                            'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high;
                            The dead men stood together.

                            All stood together on the deck,
                            For a charnel-dungeon fitter:
                            All fixed on me their stony eyes,
                            That in the Moon did glitter.

                            The pang, the curse, with which they died,
                            Had never passed away:
                            I could not draw my eyes from theirs,
                            Nor turn them up to pray.

                            And now this spell was snapt: once more
                            I viewed the ocean green,
                            And looked far forth, yet little saw
                            Of what had else been seen--

                            Like one, that on a lonesome road
                            Doth walk in fear and dread,
                            And having once turned round walks on,
                            And turns no more his head;
                            Because he knows, a frightful fiend
                            Doth close behind him tread.

                            But soon there breathed a wind on me,
                            Nor sound nor motion made:
                            Its path was not upon the sea,
                            In ripple or in shade.

                            It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek
                            Like a meadow-gale of spring--
                            It mingled strangely with my fears,
                            Yet it felt like a welcoming.

                            Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
                            Yet she sailed softly too:
                            Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze--
                            On me alone it blew.

                            Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed
                            The light-house top I see?
                            Is this the hill? is this the kirk?
                            Is this mine own countree?

                            We drifted o'er the harbour-bar,
                            And I with sobs did pray--
                            O let me be awake, my God!
                            Or let me sleep alway.

                            The harbour-bay was clear as glass,
                            So smoothly it was strewn!
                            And on the bay, the moonlight lay,
                            And the shadow of the Moon.

                            The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,
                            That stands above the rock:
                            The moonlight steeped in silentness
                            The steady, weathercock.

                            And the bay was white with silent light,
                            Till rising from the same,
                            Full many shapes, that shadows were,
                            In crimson colours came.

                            A little distance from the prow
                            Those crimson shadows were:
                            I turned my eyes upon the deck--
                            Oh, Christ! what saw I there!

                            Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,
                            And, by the holy rood!
                            A man all light, a seraph-man,
                            On every corse there stood.

                            This seraph-band, each waved his hand:
                            It was a heavenly, sight!
                            They stood as signals to the land,
                            Each one a lovely light;

                            This seraph-band, each waved his hand,
                            No voice did they impart--
                            No voice; but oh! the silence sank
                            Like music on my heart.

                            But soon I heard the dash of oars,
                            I heard the Pilot's cheer;
                            My head was turned perforce away
                            And I saw a boat appear.

                            The Pilot and the Pilot's boy,
                            I heard them coming fast:
                            Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy
                            The dead men could not blast.

                            I saw a third-I heard his voice:
                            It is the Hermit good!
                            He singeth loud his godly hymns
                            That he makes in the wood.
                            He'll shrieve my soul he'll wash away
                            The Albatross's blood.

                            PART SEVEN

                            THIS Hermit good lives in that wood
                            Which slopes down to the sea.
                            How loudly his sweet voice he rears!
                            He loves to talk with marineres
                            That come from a far countree.

                            He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve--
                            He hath a cushion plump:
                            It is the moss that wholly hides
                            The rotted old oak-stump.

                            The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk,
                            'Why, this is strange, I trow!
                            Where are those lights so many and fair,
                            That signal made but now?'

                            'Strange, by my faith!' the Hermit said--
                            'And they answered not our cheer!
                            The planks looked warped! and see those sails,
                            How thin they are and sere!
                            I never saw aught like to them,
                            Unless perchance it were

                            Brown skeletons of leaves that lag
                            My forest-brook along;
                            When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow,
                            And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,
                            That eats the she-wolf's young.'

                            'Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look--
                            (The Pilot made reply)
                            I am a-feared'--'Push on, push on!'
                            Said the Hermit cheerily.

                            The boat came closer to the ship,
                            But I nor spake nor stirred;
                            The boat came close beneath the ship,
                            And straight a sound was heard.

                            Under the water it rumbled on,
                            Still louder and more dead:
                            It reached the ship, it split the bay;
                            The ship went down like lead.

                            Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound,
                            Which sky and ocean smote,
                            Like one that hath been seven days drowned
                            My body lay afloat;
                            But swift as dreams, myself I found
                            Within the Pilot's boat.

                            Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,
                            The boat spun round and round;
                            And all was still, save that the hill
                            Was telling of the sound.

                            I moved my lips--the Pilot shrieked
                            And fell down in a fit;
                            The holy Hermit raised his eyes,
                            And prayed where he did sit.

                            I took the oars: the Pilot's boy,
                            Who now doth crazy go,
                            Laughed loud and long, and all the while
                            His eyes went to and fro.
                            'Ha! ha!' quoth he, 'full plain I see,
                            The Devil knows how to row.'

                            And now, all in my own countree,
                            I stood on the firm land!
                            The Hermit stepped forth from the boat,
                            And scarcely he could stand.

                            'O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!'
                            The Hermit crossed his brow.
                            'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee say--
                            What manner of man art thou?

                            Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched
                            With a woful agony,
                            Which forced me to begin my tale;
                            And then it left me free.

                            Since then, at an uncertain hour,
                            That agony returns:
                            And till my ghastly tale is told,
                            This heart within me burns.

                            I pass, like night, from land to land;
                            I have strange power of speech;
                            That moment that his face I see,
                            I know the man that must hear me:
                            To him my tale I teach.

                            What loud uproar bursts from that door!
                            The wedding-guests are there:
                            But in the garden-bower the bride
                            And bride-maids singing are:
                            And hark the little vesper bell,
                            Which biddeth me to prayer!

                            O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been
                            Alone on a wide wide sea:
                            So lonely 'twas, that God himself
                            Scarce seem'ed there to be.

                            O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
                            'Tis sweeter far to me,
                            To walk together to the kirk
                            With a goodly company!--

                            To walk together to the kirk,
                            And all together pray,
                            While each to his great Father bends,
                            Old men, and babes, and loving friends
                            And youths and maidens gay!

                            Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
                            To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!
                            He prayeth well, who loveth well
                            Both man and bird and beast.

                            He prayeth best, who loveth best
                            All things both great and small;
                            For the dear God who loveth us,
                            He made and loveth all.

                            The Mariner, whose eye is bright,
                            Whose beard with age is hoar,
                            Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest
                            Turned from the bridegroom's door.

                            He went like one that hath been stunned,
                            And is of sense forlorn:
                            A sadder and a wiser man,
                            He rose the morrow morn.
                            Ooh a new vid!

                            IMPORTANT NOTICE: No media files are hosted on these forums. By clicking the link below you agree to view content from an external website. We can not be held responsible for the suitability or legality of this material. If the video does not play, wait a minute or try again later.
                            I AGREE

                            Comment


                            • #15
                              They're only away 4 days Tony!
                              Cheers, Keith.

                              Comment

                              Working...
                              X