Oh Captain, My Captain

O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The team has weather’d every storm, the prize we seek not won; The season is near, the Czech I see, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel,no leader yet grim and daring:

But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of blue,
Where in the rafter my Captain lies,
His jersey cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up from Buffalo;
Rise up—for you the C is sown—for you the Goal song trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the Gardens a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying blue seats, their eager voices chanting;

New Captain! dear import!
The way you keep your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,

Our leadership fallen cold and dead.

My Captain is not named, no lips or voice to trill;
Our team for now has no pulse, but soon I hope it will;
Our aircraft fueled safe and sound, its voyage for pleasure and fun;
Across the Ocean, the team will land, comes in with no object won;

Exult, Garden crown, and ring, Goal Song!
But I, with mournful tread,
Wait patiently for my Captain named,

Mr. Drury please, I pled.