Now the ox carts drove off the loading pier
Newly emptied of their stacks of cord wood
Into schooners the first loads of the year
Just waiting ‘a chance’ to sail and make good

South to Boston would the Coasters make runs
Fair winds not beat to windward shall they go
Sailing vessels with loads more than sixty tons
Hulls not too tight o’er shoals do the tides flow

A day’s ration of rum passed among hands
More brought back with stores from city docks
And from tavern to tavern across the lands
Replenish for the winter all new stocks

Back and forth shouts the sailors still wigging
Dreamily watch the clouds drift by the rigging