We pulled for you when the wind was against us and
the sails were low.
Will you never let us go?
We ate bread and onions when you took towns, or ran
aboard quickly when you were beaten back by the foe.
The Captains walked up and down the deck in fair weather
singing songs, but we were below.
We fainted with our chins on the oars and you did not see
that we were idle, for we still swung to and fro.
Will you never let us go?
The salt made the oar-handles like shark-skin; our knees
were cut to the bone with salt-cracks; our hair was
stuck to our foreheads; and our lips were cut to the
gums, and you whipped us because we could not row.
Will you never let us go?
But, in a little time, we shall run out of the port-holes
as the water runs along the oar-blade, and though
you tell the others to row after us you will never
catch us till you catch the oar-thresh and tie up
the winds in the belly of the sail. Aho!
Will you never let us go?
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