Blow high, blow low, let tempests tear The mainmast by the board; My heart, with thoughts of thee, my dear, And love well stored, Shall brave all danger, scorn all fear, The roaring winds, the raging sea, In hopes on shore to be once more Safe moored with thee!

Aloft while mountains high we go, The whistling winds that scud along, And surges roaring from below, Shall my signal be to think on thee, And this shall be my song: Blow high, blow low—

And on that night, when all the crew, The memory of their former lives O'er flowing cans of flip renew, And drink their sweethearts and their wives, I'll heave a sigh and think on thee, And, as the ship rolls through the sea, The burden of my song shall be: Blow high, blow low—

Dibdin.