There's a storm on the blast, and the billows run high
While the hissing spray mocks the sea bird's cry,
mocks the sea bird's cry
There's a storm on the blast, and the lightnings they leap,
Like fiery shafts from the clouds to the deep,
Like fiery shafts from the clouds to the deep.

The sea bird's aloft in the thunder-charged cloud,
Shrieking the dirge of the sailor aloud;
And now he is shooting the dark ether through,
To answer the helmsman's hoarse halloo halloo halloo halloo!

Ah! many a form
Shall that wild bird mark,
With a death grasp clinging to yonder bark, to yonder bark;
And many a prayer shall he linger to catch,
As it breathes from the lips of the sinking wretch,
As it breathes from the lips of the sinking wretch!

The proud ship has struck!
And a wild cry now,
Comes sad on the gale from the shatter'd prow;
They are gone, they are gone, yet aloft o'er the deep,
The sea bird is singing the sailor to sleep--
to sleep, to sleep, to sleep
to sleep, to sleep, to sleep

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