Now gather round, you schooner-men, for tonight there′s a yarn toward

Tis a tale of honor from the days when against the States we warred

The decent act of a decent man, and I know of what I tell

I'm the last to choke on powder-smoke in the War of 1812

We′ve been sailing in a convoy, out on Lake Ontario

Our ship she was the Moira, and we had a sloop in tow

There was Yankee sail aplenty, we all knew upon the lake

To come under the guns of a Yankee ship was a chance we'd have to take

It's a hard row in life we hoe, all of us duty-bound

We eat, drink, and rarely think beyond what the task allows

But there′s a generous strand in every man, whether he will or not

So here′s a pail of Canadian ale to a man who paused for thought

Full forty miles to Kingston yet, when the big lake went to glass

And the smothering snow began to fall

-We were dead calm thick and fast

The shrouds hung slack and empty - no chance to make harbor now

The snow fell heavy as drunken sleep and we couldn't see stern to prow

As we peered around in a sea of white, a menacing darkness loomed

And slow as death, a Yankee warship ranged up into view

Twas Commodor Chauncey′s flagship, the Oneida, brig of war

We knew she'd stowed the Sittko in just a couple of days before

It′s a hard row in life we hoe, all of us duty-bound

We eat, drink, and rarely think beyond what the task allows

But there's a generous strand in every man, whether he will or not

So here′s a pail of Canadian ale to a man who paused for thought

She couldn't have been ten fathoms off, she loomed like a mountainside

Her flag hung red like an angry eye, and her guns were all a-primed

Fair braced were we for a hail of shot, for double our weight she bore

But before a single flint was struck, we heard our captain roar

"Pray stand away from the sloop we tow, there's precious cargo there

We′ll cut her loose to drift a league

-Then we′ll fight you fair and square

We fear you not, nor our own demise, it's rather the sloop we mind

What′s in her hold is worth much more than both our ships combined."

It's a hard row in life we hoe, all of us duty-bound

We eat, drink, and rarely think beyond what the task allows

But there′s a generous strand in every man, whether he will or not

So here's a pail of Canadian ale to a man who paused for thought

"We care not what you transport, you′ll neither pass nor run

You're in no place to bargain, we outgun you two to one!"

"In the name of God!" our captain cried, "Do not go so hard

Are you so brass-bound that you cannot think

-Like a man in this regard?

These three weeks dead is General Brock, and laid beneath the ground

The sloop carries his possessions and to Guernsey we are bound

His sword, his plate, his uniform, his papers, books, and arms

Our charge is to convey them back to Guernsey without harm."

The Stars and Stripes from the main peak hung

-Loft in a breeze just come

And the massive brig swung just enough to present us all eight guns

"If indeed the effects of Sir Isaac Brock are what you do convey

The Commodore's compliments to you all, we′ll meet another day!"

It′s a hard row in life we hoe, all of us duty-bound

We eat, drink, and rarely think beyond what the task allows

But there's a generous strand in every man, whether he will or not

So here′s a pail of Canadian ale to a man who paused for thought

It's a hard row in life we hoe, all of us duty-bound

We eat, drink, and rarely think beyond what the task allows

But there′s a generous strand in every man, whether he will or not

So here's a pail of Canadian ale to a man who paused for thought