Gordon Bok - The old figurehead carver

^AI have done my bit of carving Figure^Bmheads of quaint design For the Olives and the ^ERuddocks And the ^Dfamous Black Ball ^ALine Brigantines and ^Gbarques and ^Aclippers Brigs and ^Dschooners, lithe and ^Bmtall But the bounding Marco ^EPolo Was the ^Dproudest of them ^Aall

And while my ^Ghand is ^Asteady ^DWhile my eyes are ^Bmgood I will carve the ^Emusic Of the ^Dwind into the ^Awood ^E

I can ^Asee that white-winged clipper Reeling ^Bmunder scudding clouds Tramping down a hazy ^Eskyline With a ^DNorther in her ^Ashrouds I can ^Gfeel her lines of ^Abeauty See her ^Dflecked with spume and ^Bmbrine As she drives her scuppers ^Eunder And that ^Dfigurehead of ^Amine

And while my ^Ghand is ^Asteady ^DWhile my eyes are ^Bmgood I will carve the ^Emusic Of the ^Dwind into the ^Awood ^E

'Twas of ^Aseasoned pine I made it Clear from ^Bmouter bark to core And the finest piece of ^Etimber From the ^Dmast-pond on Straight ^AShore Every ^Gbite of axe or ^Achisel Every ^Dringing mallet ^Bmwelt Brought from out that piece of ^Etimber All the ^Dspirit that I ^Afelt

And while my ^Ghand is ^Asteady ^DWhile my eyes are ^Bmgood I will carve the ^Emusic Of the ^Dwind into the ^Awood ^E

I had ^Aread of Marco Polo Till his ^Bmdaring deeds were mine And I saw them all a-^Eglowing In that ^Dbalsam-scented ^Apine Saw his eyes a^Glight with ^Apurpose Facing ^Devery vagrant ^Bmbreeze Saw him lifting, free and ^Ecareless Over ^Dall the Seven ^ASeas

And while my ^Ghand is ^Asteady ^DWhile my eyes are ^Bmgood I will carve the ^Emusic Of the ^Dwind into the ^Awood ^E

That was ^Ahow I did my carving Beat of ^Bmheart and stroke of hand Blended into life and ^Eaction All the ^Dpurpose that I ^Aplanned Flowing robes and ^Gwind-tossed ^Atresses Forms of ^Dbeauty, strength, de^Bmsign Saw them all, and strove to ^Ecarve them In those ^Dfigureheads of ^Amine

And while my ^Ghand is ^Asteady ^DWhile my eyes are ^Bmgood I will carve the ^Emusic Of the ^Dwind into the ^Awood ^{E D A}

^AI am old, my hands are feeble And my ^Bmoutward eyes are dim But I see again those ^Eclippers Lifting ^Do'er the ocean's ^Arim Great white fleet of ^Greeling ^Arovers Wind a^Dbove, the surf be^Bmneath And the Marco Polo ^Eleading With my ^Dcarving in her ^Ateeth

And while my ^Ghand is ^Asteady ^DWhile my eyes are ^Bmgood I will carve the ^Emusic Of the ^Dwind into the ^Awood

And while my ^Ghand is ^Asteady ^DWhile my eyes are ^Bmgood I will carve the ^Emusic Of the ^Dwind into the ^Awood ^{E A}