  A SEA CHANTY.THERE'S a whistle of the wind in the rigging overhead, And the tune is as plain as can be. "Hey! down below there—d'you know it's going to blow there, All across the cold North Sea?" And along comes the gale from the locker in the North By the Storm-King's hand set free, And the wind and the snow and the sleet come forth, Let loose to the cold North Sea. Tumble out the oilskins, the seas are running white, There's a wet watch due for me, For we're heading to the east, and a long wet night As we drive at the cold North Sea. See the water foaming as the waves go by Like the tide on the sands of Dee; Hear the gale a-piping in the halliards high To the tune of the cold North Sea. See how she's meeting them, plunging all the while, Till I'm wet to the sea-boot knee; See how she's beating them—twenty to the mile— The waves of the cold North Sea. Right across from Helgoland to meet the English coast, Lie better than the likes of we,— Men that lived in many ways, but went to join the host That are buried by the cold North Sea. Rig along the life-lines, double-stay the rails, Lest the Storm-King call for a fee; For if any man should slip, through the rolling of the ship, He'd be lost in the cold North Sea. We are heading to the gale, and the driving of the sleet, And we're far to the east of Three. Hey! you German sailormen, here's the British Fleet Waiting in the cold North Sea. |
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