Oh, I am the wind that the seamen love—
I am steady, and strong, and true;
They follow my track by the clouds above
O'er the fathomless tropic blue.
For close by the shores of the sunny Azores
Their ships I await to convoy;
When into their sails my constant breath pours
They hail me with turbulent joy.
Oh, I bring them a rest from the tiresome toil
Of trimming the sail to the blast;
For I love to keep gear all snug in the coil
And the sheets and the braces all fast.
From the deck to the truck I pour all my force,
In spanker and jib I am strong;
For I make every course to pull like a horse

And worry the great ship along.
As I fly o'er the blue I sing to the crew,
Who answer me back with a hail;
I whistle a note as I slip by the throat
Of the buoyant and bellying sail.
I laugh when the wave leaps over the head
And the jibs thro' the spray-bow shine,
For an acre of foam is broken and spread
When she shoulders and tosses the brine.
Thro' daylight and dark I follow the bark,
I keep like a hound on her trail;
I'm strongest at noon, yet under the moon
I stiffen the bunt of her sail;
The wide ocean thro' for days I pursue,
Till slowly my forces all wane;
Then in whispers of calm I bid them adieu
And vanish in thunder and rain.
Oh, I am the wind that the seamen love—
I am steady, and strong, and true;
They follow my track by the clouds above

O'er the fathomless tropic blue.