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THE loud, brave laugh and the well-worn jest—
Or we’ll fail at the pinch to smile—
You’ll be dull to-day if I know you best,
And I’ll feel heartsore awhile.
A grip over rail with your hand in mine
For the future and what has been;
And the wharf and the deck roaring
Auld Lang Syne,
As the green tide slips between.
As the green tide slips between, old man,
And the green tide flows between;
“You’ll drop me a line,” and “I’ll drop you a line,”
When the South Sea rolls between.
But you’ll be afloat on a New Year’s boat,
For I seek good luck for two;
And you start a cheer when you sight the pier,
And I’ll raise one there for you.
A grip over rail with your hand in mine
For the future and what has been.
And the wharf and the deck roaring
Auld Lang Syne,
While the green tide spreads between.
And the green tide runs between, old man,
And the green tide flows between,
“I drop you a line,” and “You drop me a line,”
When the South Sea rolls between.
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