A tolling bell and a rolling sea,
       The wind blowing its salty breath.
       The procession of men who somber be,
       Their countenance grim with the touch of death.
       Their shoulders bearing the weight of a man,
       Who'll never again see the homeland.

       The plank of wood and the covering flag,
       The watching men who've lost a comrade.
       The waves pull the ship, the heel drags,
       The captain says to them, "Steady lads.
       We've lost a fellow man today,
       He's gone to places far away.

       "We cannot follow where he goes,
       But he shall always sail with us.
       Remember lads, this goes to show,
       Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

       The plank on the side, the preparing sighs.
       The men flex their hands; exhale.
       Hearts in their mouths and tears in their eyes,
       They start at the sound of the snap of the sail.
       The man is raised in twilight sleep,
       The slide, the splash, cast to the deep.

       Ale and wine is passed to all,
       Drinks are raised in silence.
       Quiet words and soft recalls,
       Memory is timeless.
       They toast to friendship and a soul made free,
       Lamenting and honoring the funeral at sea.

       They cannot follow where he goes,

       But he shall always ride the gust.
       Remember sailors, this does show,
       Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.