Allan Cunningham (1784–1842)

A WET sheet and a flowing sea,

A wind that follows fast,

And fills the white and rustling sail,

And bends the gallant mast.

And bends the gallant mast, my boys,

While, like the eagle free,

Away the good ship flies, and leaves

Old England on the lee.

There’s tempest in yon hornèd moon,

And lightning in yon cloud;

And hark, the music, mariners!

The wind is wakening loud.

The wind is wakening loud, my boys,

The lightning flashes free;

The hollow oak our palace is,

Our heritage the sea.