Thorkild’s Song

1 
There's no wind along these seas,
  Out oars for Stavanger!
  Forward all for Stavanger!
So we must wake the white-ash breeze,
  Let fall for Stavanger!
  A long pull for Stavanger!
2 
Oh, hear the benches creak and strain!
  (A long pull for Stavanger!)
She thinks she smells the Northland rain!
  (A long pull for Stavanger!)
3 
She thinks she smells the Northland snow,
And she's as glad as we to go,
4 
She thinks she smells the Northland rime,
And the dear dark nights of winter-time.
5 
She wants to be at her own home pier,
To shift her sails and standing gear.
6 
She wants to be in her winter-shed,
To strip herself and go to bed,
7 
Her very bolts are sick for shore,
And we-we want it ten times more!
8 
So all you Gods that love brave men,
Send us a three-reef gale again!
9 
Send us a gale, and watch us come,
With close-cropped canvas slashing home!
10 
But–there's no wind on all these seas,
  A long pull for Stavanger!
So we must wake the white-ash breeze,
  A long pull for Stavanger!

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