From the New York Tribune, February 2, 1913.
By A. Cunningham.
A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
A wind that follows fast
And fills the white and rustling sail
And bends the gallant mast;
And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
While like the eagle free
Away the good ship flies, and leaves
Old England on the lee.
O for the soft and gentle wind!
I hear a fair one cry;
But give to me the morning breeze
And white waves heaving high;
And white waves heaving high, my lads,
The good ship tight and free—
The world of waters is our home
And merry men are we.
There’s a tempest in yon hornéd moon
And lightning in yon cloud
But hark the music, mariners!
The wind is piping loud;
The wind is piping loud, my boys,
The lightning flashes free—
While the hollow oak our palace is
Our heritage the sea.