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Poem	THE wind blew shrill and smart, And the wind awoke my heart Again to go a-sailing o'er the sea, To hear the cordage moan And the straining timbers groan, And to see the flying pennon lie a-lee. O sailor of the fleet, It is time to stir the feet! It's time to man the dingy and to row! It's lay your hand in mine And it's empty down the wine, And it's drain a health to death before we go! To death, my lads, we sail; And it's death that blows the gale And death that holds the tiller as we ride. For he's the king of all In the tempest and the squall, And the ruler of the Ocean wild and wide!
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