On the sea the waves will drift us, And the storm-winds wreck our vessel; Then our bands must do the rowing, And our feet must steer us homeward
Like the serpent through the heather Like the creeping of the adder Wolves are howling from our hearts On the eyes the bears are growling The old Moon is shining, gleams the silver sunlight The walk sings the cold The old Moon is shining, gleams the silver sunlight And The frost shines blue
The our bands must do the rowing, And our feet must steer us homeward Find the vessels sorely weeping, Hear the wailing of the rigging