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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