The envious billows sidelong
Always swell to whelm the track
And the ever-brimming goblets
They will never bring us back.

Well, the pale and turbid water
The only bosom we adore
And a fever heart starts pounding
When we leave the grassy shores.

Aye, I leave you in the morning
With the night-birds soiling song.
Aye, I leave you in the morning
For the realms where I belong.

And when you hear my gentle footsteps
On the pale shell-dotted floor
Cry a tear in your cold pillow
For the great summers we longed for.

The dancing waters now await me
With its solemn cold distress
And I dip my final anchor
Deep into the Neptune's chest.

The compass-needle tumbled
As she lights their little stove.
And the odour of fresh seaweed
Drifting over from the cove.

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